Defining the Jedi
by LMSharp
Summary: A sequel to The Edge of Light and Dark. Previously Into the Gray. After a year of searching, Darden Leona, the former Jedi Exile, finally has found Revan, sometimes known as Aithne Morrigan. Darden Leona tells her old commander what has transpired since she has left the Republic, and why she should come home. LSF Exile/Atton, LSF Revan/Carth. No True Sith, Revan Really Fell AU.
1. A Bar at the Hind End of the Galaxy

**Disclaimer: I am making no profit off of Darden and Aithne, and their story is mostly owned by Lucasfilm, Bioware, and Obsidian.**

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In A Bar at the Hind End of the Galaxy

The bar was small, dingy, and mostly empty. The floor was bare concrete, and sported more than one stain of questionable origin. There were no dancing Twi'leks, no Bith playing instruments here. Instead, a tinny recording of some song that had been a hit five years back wheezed out of speakers that had to be decades out of date. The single window was grimy and did hardly anything to light the dim space. The job of illumination was left to three bare, naked bulbs hanging above the bar, about which a few nondescript insects hovered.

The dozen patrons hailed from just as many worlds. As such, they represented a wide slice of sentient life and came in a variety of different shapes, sizes, and even sexes. Unable or unwilling to talk to one another, they sat huddled alone, or huddled in pairs, spaced as far around the tiny joint as they could get. At this hind-end of space, this pit-stop of a planet without a name or designation, and no representation on any Republic map of the galaxy whatever, sentients often did not wish to be identified or found.

The door opened, and a newcomer walked into this dodgy establishment. The human woman was neither old nor young, with short, thick dark hair, tanned skin, a strong nose, and bright, searching, vividly green eyes. She wore modest armor of Jal Shey make, but she carried no blaster or vibrosword. Instead, her hands, which bore a frequent melee-fighter's scars, lingered near a long, black and silver cylinder attached to her belt. She was small, almost juvenile, in size, but this cylinder—a Jedi's lightsaber- along with her sturdy stance and lean muscles, indicated that nonetheless, this female was no easy target.

The woman looked around the dimly lit room. About eight of the dozen patrons turned up their collars and looked pointedly away. People didn't come all the way out here because they wanted to be found. One or two more violent-minded customers stretched for their blasters, then thought better of it. The woman was breaking the unwritten law of the place, standing in the doorway, looking around. So partially to avoid a fight, and partially because she couldn't see through the shadows of the place anyway, the dark-haired woman nodded her head briefly, dropping her eyes, and strode further into the bar.

But just as she crossed to the bar, one young, inexperienced-looking Rodian caught her eye. He was staring, and as she looked back, his big eyes darted, just for a moment, to a gray cloaked figure in the back left corner, the only other human in the bar. The dark-haired woman focused sharply on this gray-cloaked figure. Then, suddenly, she smiled radiantly. Abandoning the bar, she swerved immediately to walk over to the corner table. Behind her, some of the patrons began edging out the door, wary of a fight. But the dark-haired woman wasn't here to fight.

She sank into the booth opposite of the gray-cloaked woman. "Here I was thinking that that sleemo Toydarian had given us yet another false lead," she said in a low voice. "We've been looking for you almost a year."

"Who's looking?" demanded the gray-cloaked human, a woman, beneath the hood, in a voice that sounded as if she were about to break into song. Her black-gloved hand stole beneath her cloak to her waistband, where the dark-haired woman knew she'd have her own lightsabers.

She raised her hands in that universal I-mean-you-no-harm gesture. "No, nothing like that. Relax. I'm Darden Leona, okay?"

The other woman paused. Then she pushed back her hood to get a better look at Darden Leona. The gray-cloaked woman was pale and freckled, about the same age as the first, with full lips and golden eyes beneath arched brows. Now unrestrained, her hair fell out of her hood, long and riotously curly, chestnut in color with only a few strands of silver. She was much taller than Darden, even sitting, and she looked down at Darden with a piercing gaze. Unexpectedly then, she reached to the worn brown leather bag at her side. Quickly, she pulled out a holo-pad, and opened up a file. A holo-pic of a woman came up. A small, fierce looking woman with an active cyan double-bladed lightsaber, dressed in ornate black battle armor, with dark hair in a military bun. The woman in the holopic was ten to fifteen years younger, barely more than a girl, but it was unmistakably still Darden Leona. Military facts scrolled beside the holo, but the gray-cloaked woman didn't look at them. Instead, she shut off the holo, stowed it back in her pack, and regarded her visitor.

"Were you looking for me, too, then?" Darden asked, though her face had closed off somewhat for some reason.

"Not specifically," the other woman replied. "But I—I'd wanted to meet you…to see you again, I mean." She looked awkward, guilty, a little confused. Then a little angry, though not at Darden.

"It's okay if you don't remember," Darden said gently. "That's why I introduced myself. What should I call you, Commander?"

The other woman looked incredibly relieved. She closed her eyes briefly, and impulsively, even grabbed Darden's hand across the table and squeezed it, before releasing it. "Aithne," she whispered. "My name is Aithne."

"They told me you'd prefer that," Darden remarked. "Aithne, then. We've both changed a great deal since we met last."

"I hope I have, at least," Aithne said. "Why were you looking for me? How did you recognize me?" She motioned to the bartender. Satisfied that a fight was not about to break out, the bartender grunted, and set about fetching a couple of drinks.

Darden smiled oddly. "Please. No one lights up the Force like you do."

Aithne regarded Darden, searching her face, seeming to look right through her. "I could say something similar about you. There's something very…off. Like you're somehow out of focus. But better than I'd been led to believe…"

Darden shrugged. "We all have our battle scars," she answered. "And they can be seen in different places. Your name is a scar. My aura is one of mine."

The bartender came over and set down two dusty bottles on their table. Darden reached for her bag, but Aithne held up a hand, and flipped him a coin.

"I got it," she said. "Go on."

Darden was silent a moment. Then, softly, she laughed. "It's funny. I've spent so long looking for you, and now that I have, I don't even know where to begin."

"Begin with the beginning and go on from there," Aithne said drily. "That usually works, in my experience."

Darden raised an eyebrow at the other woman. "Yes, but which beginning?"

Aithne chuckled at something. "I concede the point," she replied. "Fine. Then start with who's with you and whether or not you'll give me a ride off this rock. Some pirates misplaced my ship for me a few years back, and since then it's been odd job after odd job, and 'I said no' with the lightsabers in the face. I've been here two months now, and there's really not enough to see to make it worth the time."

"That was my life for ten years. I'll give you a ride. That's why I came, Aithne, to take you home."

Aithne tensed, and slowly, took a long, deep swig of her drink. "Home," she said after a long moment. "And where would that be?"

Darden looked at her. She didn't answer. Instead, she said, "It's over, Aithne. It's okay. There's nothing out here anymore. You can go home." She seemed to stress the other woman's name, like it was unfamiliar to her, and like she was trying to convince Aithne of something.

"The Republic's safe from what we did?" Aithne said. "I don't even—"She flexed her fingers around her drink, and her other hand came up and fisted in her hair. Aithne seemed to be getting upset, but Darden remained calm.

"You don't even know what you and Malak did," Darden told her. "And that's okay. It's okay. There was more to stop; you were right. But I've stopped it. It's over. The Republic is fine, and the Jedi will be."

"Who are you here with?" Aithne demanded. Her eyes were bright. She looked very fragile, about to break.

Darden took in a breath, and then took a sip of her drink. "Do you have a room in this pit-stop of a settlement?" she asked. "We could go there, and I could tell you the whole story. Then, if you still want to, you can come back with me to where bars serve actual edible food and drink." She darted her eyes to the bar, and Aithne snorted.

"He doesn't speak Basic," she assured her companion.

The corner of Darden's mouth quirked up. "You could come with me to where there are jobs worth doing, even if it's hard at first, to work where everything's a memory or should be," she continued, more seriously. Aithne didn't reply, and Darden finished gently, "You could come with me back to where you still have people that love you and are waiting for you."

Aithne closed her eyes again, in obvious pain. Then she opened them, and inclined her head. "I'll hear you out," she said. "Come with me."

Aithne stood, and Darden stood with her. The two women strode out of the bar and into the cold afternoon. The settlement was small enough the low-rent tenement where spacers could stay in between rides wasn't two blocks away. It was as dingy and unassuming as the bar, but as Aithne unlocked the door to her room, Darden could see she had taken a little extra effort. An improvised lamp, put together out of spare parts, illuminated the room a little more, and a few cheap, multicolored tunics of the type sold in backwater markets all over the galaxy had been cut up and sewn together to make a patchwork rug. The effect brightened the humble room a good deal. A papery partition cut off the fresher area from the rest of the room. In one corner there was a food processor that looked like Aithne had made it herself, along with several packages of different varieties of protein. In another corner, Aithne had made her cot, which consisted of a bedroll, two or three coarse blankets, and a single, stained pillow. Across from the cot was a rickety looking chair.

"Yeah, it isn't the most stylish venue," Aithne admitted as Darden finished her inspection. "But I never know when I might get out of here, so I keep it low-key. Please." She gestured to the single chair, but Darden, shaking her head, sat down next to the cot and leaned against the wall as Aithne did the same.

"I've lived in worse places," Darden told her. "I like what you did with the lamp and rug."

Aithne smiled. "Passes the time," she said. "Now. What's your story?"

Darden gestured around the room, seeming to encompass it, the street, and the whole tiny settlement. "This. This is my story, for about ten years after I left you. Hopping around out here, taking work on one sleazy starship after another. A few months here, a few months there, learning all kinds of things you never learn in the Order."

Aithne chuckled appreciatively. "There could be a whole library of things you never learn in the Order," she remarked, "Three-quarters of it things they don't teach you on purpose."

"Never got this far out, though," Darden said speculatively, looking around. "We left charted space months ago." She fell quiet for a moment. "These past two years have been different, though," she said at last. "You—you've been doing what I did, and for three years before I stopped, too. But I—I've been walking your path."

Aithne's jaw tightened, and her eyes went cold. "Explain," she said shortly.

Darden looked back at Aithne. "You've been doing the whole self-imposed exile thing for a while now, so right now you're a little out of practice with people," she said baldly. "You're going to have to ditch the oversensitivity. I'm going to tell you some things tonight you won't like."

Aithne considered this. Then she nodded.

Darden paused, seemed to think. Then she drew out a few spare parts from her bag, and started fiddling with them, creating different mechanical components and disassembling them just as quickly. This process seemed to relax her, because she started speaking again, this time in a more confident tone. "So I'd left you, returned to the Jedi, and been Exiled for my trouble, and meanwhile, it was looking like war again."

Aithne looked down. Her fingers twitched, and Darden, glancing at her, reached back into her bag, and pulled out a few more parts. She passed them over to Aithne. "It helps," she said shortly.

Aithne nodded, "Yeah," she glanced at the lamp and at the rug, then began working the parts just like Darden.

Darden continued. "Even if you don't remember, you seem to have at least heard the story of how I was back then." Aithne acknowledged this silently. "You didn't have any use for a broken Jedi, and the Council didn't, either," Darden said, "But the Republic probably would've put me to some use. But I knew if I stayed in the Republic, I'd be fighting you and the others, and I wouldn't do that. And if I stayed, I knew I'd never get away from the General, from who I'd become and what I'd done. So I ran. I hoped if I ran far enough, I wouldn't hear it, wouldn't feel it, wouldn't see Malachor crushing both fleets every single day." Aithne's fingers had stilled, and she watched Darden intently, but Darden's fingers had sped up, working faster and faster, but so tense and tight that a sharp-edged part slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor, cutting her. Darden didn't flinch, didn't wince, gave no sign she'd even noticed as her finger bled.

"It doesn't work," Aithne murmured, with too much understanding.

Darden relaxed a little, looking at her companion. "Well I guess you'd know now, wouldn't you?" she asked. Aithne flushed, but said nothing in reply. "No," Darden said. "It didn't work. But I'll tell you what it did do. It alienated me from others, as well as from the Force. It got me out of touch with everything that happened and left me in the dark. I didn't have a clue what you'd done and what had become of the Republic until almost eight years after I left. I was closer to Republic space than usual just then, and I ran into some friends of yours: Jolee Bindo and Dustil Onasi."

Aithne's head came up sharply, and she met Darden's eyes. The air around her almost seemed to hum. "You saw Jolee and Dustil? When was this?"

"About a year after you'd left the Republic," Darden said. Her fingers stilled, and now she took Aithne's hand. "Look, they weren't the last friends of yours I've met, or the last news I had of you, so I know you were close to them. So now I have to tell you some bad news. Jolee's dead, Aithne. Bastila and Juhani, too."

Aithne's hand, still in its glove, trembled. "Dead? All three of them? What happened?"

Darden held the other woman's gaze. "Like I said—you were right, that there was more out there. Specifically, there were other Sith. Not yours, but ones inspired by what had happened during the Mandalorian Wars. These weren't fighting to take out the Republic. They were fighting solely to wipe out or convert all of the Jedi. I'll tell you more about them later, but what's important now is hardly anyone knew about them until it was pretty much too late. Assassins got Juhani, just like they got many other Jedi. But Bastila held out, and she was with some of the very last Jedi that met on a planet to find out who was killing all the others. The Sith—the Sith wiped out that entire planet, just to kill the Jedk that had met there. But Jolee—Jolee died of old age."

Aithne gently extricated her hand from Darden's. She brought her knees to her chest, and cradled her head in her hands. Her hair fell around her face, and for a brief moment, she grieved her three friends. But Aithne, like Darden, had lost many friends and allies. So she did not lose herself for long. Instead, she spoke out of her hands. "All of them—the Jedi—besides Jolee—were there any survivors of the planetary attack?"

Darden swallowed, then answered bluntly. "Of the planetary attack—yes. But in the end, Aithne—I have to tell you that none of the Jedi we knew survived. None of the Sith did, either, though." The last words were spoken in a harsher tone than any she had used thus far.

Aithne, still curled in upon herself, gave one, violent shiver. Then she looked up, searching Darden's face. "None of the Sith? None of the Jedi we knew?" she asked.

"There's you, and there's me," Darden said.

Aithne let out a short, mirthless bark of laughter. "So the Jedi and the Sith both are completely dead," she said.

Darden raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I said. I said none of the Sith survived, and none of the Jedi we knew."

Aithne brought her legs down again. "And you also said the Jedi will be fine," she recalled. "Okay. What happened?"

Darden took a breath, then began again. "Like I was saying, I only first heard of the Jedi Civil War—"

Aithne looked lost a moment. "The Jedi Civil—oh," she said in a flat tone, as she got it.

"Yes. I only first heard of it from Jolee and Dustil four years back. But I didn't properly get involved in what happened afterwards until the Republic found me two years later. They'd noticed the Jedi disappearing, and for some reason, even though the records had been closed, they recognized me as a Jedi and wanted me back. You have to understand, the Republic—"

"The Republic was weak after the war," Aithne finished. "Struggling just to breathe beneath the weight of all the damage the Mandalorian Wars and…all that followed…had done, and trying like mad to figure out the changes that needed to be made to stabilize itself. I was there for that bit. They probably panicked when they realized the Jedi were disappearing." She smiled a thin, cold, cynical smile.

"To look to me as a Jedi they had to be panicked," Darden said. "It'd been ten years, and I still couldn't feel the Force. But ten years is a long time to be alone," she concluded, ducking her gaze. "I'd run as far as I could, but Malachor still followed me. I carried it with me, everywhere I went. And after all I'd been through, after all those years, to be wanted again, to be recognized as a Jedi, even if I didn't consider myself to be one…"

"I understand," Aithne said. "You went with them."

"Yeah," Darden said. "The ship was called the _Harbinger_, and I'd been on it for two weeks, headed for Telos' Citadel Station—"

Aithne flexed her fingers in the parts she'd taken up again. Her mouth tightened, but her eyes glistened. "They finished it, then," she said, very carefully. "Is it nice? How's the planetary restoration going?"

Darden smiled at Aithne. "Actually, Telos figures pretty prominently in my story. Yes—they've finished the station, and one or two of the coastal restoration zones are expected to be livable again next year. The residents will be able to start moving on-world again. But anyway, the Harbinger had been bound for Telos for two weeks when I reported to its med bay for what I thought was going to be a routine medical exam. I woke up three days later in my underwear, in a place I'd never seen before in my life."

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**A/N: To **_**Into the Gray**_** followers: A lot of stuff's gone on. Graduation, two separate moves, two times I lost all my game-records, two career changes, and the beginning of grad school. I hope that explains my recalcitrance in posting, if it doesn't excuse it. But here's the punchline: **_**Into the Gray**_** is not very good. It was too lengthy, the focus was off, and several characters and motivations were not fleshed out the way they needed to be. Instead of just finishing a really flawed story, I'm rewriting the whole thing. I've reframed the story as the first interaction between my Revan and Darden. The POV has been changed to first person. At first many chapters will be mostly the same, but some game dialogue has been cut, more original dialogue has been added, and later on different scenes will appear to explain plot elements such as Darden's miscalculation of the timing of Kreia's betrayal, and Mical and Mira's near-fall to the Dark Side on Malachor V. **

**Due to the Darden-Revan framing, AU elements of the text will appear immediately, rather than later. To eliminate confusion, I'll delineate them now. First and most obviously, Revan is a woman, here named Aithne Morrigan, that romanced Carth in the first KotOR game. She actually fell to the Dark Side in the Mandalorian Wars. She did not **_**choose**_** it as several characters imply in SL. This belief in SL is symptomatic of delusion in the characters that hold it in-story (G0-T0 and Kreia, most notably). Revan's capture and rewiring in KotOR, as well as her relationship with Carth, anchored her to the Light Side, but also completely alienated her from the Jedi Order, estranged her from the Republic, and even made her doubtful of her own sanity. Aithne remembers "flashes" of her past, usually as nightmares and visions, but they are always unclear, sometimes inaccurate, and altogether more problematic than helpful. As Revan, Aithne Morrigan knew about the rising Kreia-Sion-Nihilus triumvirate, and **_**this, **_**rather than any 'True Sith,' was the threat she sensed, but wasn't sure of, and went to face 1-2 years after the end of the Jedi Civil War. Because she wasn't sure of it, she could not locate it, and ended up in a self-imposed exile very similar to **_**the**_** Exile's in the decade before the events of SL. **

**More KotOR history: Carth and Aithne adopted Mission Vao after the events of the Jedi Civil War, while Jolee Bindo took Dustil Onasi on as his apprentice. There was a lot of tension in the expanded Onasi family, especially between Mission and Dustil, until Aithne's abandonment brought the two together in their mutual love for Carth and prior history of abandonment. As of SL, the two are special agents for the Republic Senate, usually partnered, but not always. Dustil's past with the Sith, and Mission's stealth skill and war experience make them well-suited. Juhani was assassinated the year after Aithne's departure from the Republic, when the triumvirate's Sith first started their stealth war with the remaining Jedi Order. Bastila was with the Jedi that died in Nihilus' attack on Katarr. Jolee, however, got sick and died of natural age-related causes about a year before the events of SL. **

**All that being said, my ITG readers, **_**Into the Gray**_** will probably disappear from the site in 1-2 weeks. You can find the rewrite here, with new chapters due to be posted every Monday and Thursday. As I am 24 chapters down the road at this point, I don't foresee any lapses in the schedule. I will slow down the posting schedule if I later run into writer's block.**

**To New Readers: Welcome! I hope you enjoy my novelization of The Sith Lords, one of many though it might be. If you'd like at any point to get to know Revan (Aithne Morrigan) better, hop on over and check out **_**The Edge of Light and Dark**_**. You can find it on my page. **

**Thanks for your patience, and May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	2. I

**Disclaimer: Dis-claimed. See?**

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I.

Amongst the Dead

"_I was cold, and sticky. My ears were ringing. I tried to breathe, but cold, foul tasting liquid filled my mouth and nose. Kolto. Damn useful stuff, but immersion in a tank has to be one of the most unpleasant experiences in the galaxy. I flailed around, though, and the sensors must've picked up I'd come to, because the tank began to drain, and the glass lowered._

I had all the strength of a newborn nerf, though. I'm embarrassed to say I fell flat on my face. Not one of my finer moments, all in all. I tried to push myself up, but I couldn't. I just lay there like a lump on the floor, shivering. Kolto glued my eyes shut when I tried to blink, so I just let it, and I think I slept again.

The alarm woke me up. You know the kind. Blaring, commercial, something's-gone-terribly-wrong-everyone-get-out-of-this-joint alarm. It scared me right up onto my feet again, Aithne. An alarm like that, you expect someone, somewhere's shooting, or at least running like hell away from something else. But I looked around, and I couldn't see anything at all to account for all the noise.

I could see that I'd never been to this place in my life. The last thing I could remember, I'd gone to the med bay on the _Harbinger_ for standard medical processing before we landed on Telos, but this was an entirely different med bay. It was smaller, more institutional than military, and for some reason I didn't feel like I was in space anymore. The gravity felt too real.

Strange med bay, no memory of a transfer. It's reason enough for anyone to get a little nervous, but this med bay was weird, Aithne. There were no healers, no technicians around. Not so much as a medical droid. There was just silence, because the alarm had stopped blaring. There were four other kolto tanks besides the one I'd fallen out of, and there were people in the tanks, though. Four men dressed in strange orange uniforms. Not Republic. Some strange company. They were floating around in the tanks like so much algae. After a moment, I went up to one and tapped on the glass, but the guy inside didn't even twitch. Not even a twitch. Even unconscious people in kolto tanks react to stimuli. The guy was so still, I got a heavy, creepy feeling in my stomach. All the others looked just like him, too.

It was damn cold in that med bay, and one look down told me why. Someone had stripped me down to the Republic-issue leotard that they'd given me when I shipped out on the _Harbinger_. Not entirely immodest, and certainly better than the ratty old underthings I'd had then, but underwear's underwear. Not exactly material to go storming strange facilities in, you know? I looked around for my stuff, but there weren't any hangers or lockers in sight.

I guessed it had been more than a few hours since the _Harbinger_, because my legs and arms were moving like I'd been heavily sedated, I was extremely hungry, and frankly? I really needed to use the fresher. If I'd been under for a few days, then someone had drugged me on the _Harbinger _and moved me. Worrying, but not something to panic over. You get into these situations out on the Rim and beyond.

The fresher was pretty easy to find. In the end I couldn't do much more than wash off all the kolto residue and put that leotard on again wet, after I'd taken care of business, but it really couldn't be helped.

The alarm blared out again once I left. Again I looked for people running around, listened for shooting or something equally calamitous. But the alarm tapered off into silence again. I waited for five minutes. Nothing. The alarm rang out through the halls of the place with an undeniable emptiness. So I at least knew that I was temporarily safe from whoever had drugged me and dumped me in this strange med bay, though I might not be safe from whatever had made them evacuate. I figured it was time to find out where I was.

Outside in the hall wasn't any less intimidating than the unmanned med bay or the motionless men in the kolto tanks. The place was deserted. Silence has different qualities. When you're alone in a tiny room and expect to be alone, it can be comforting, peaceful. But when you're alone in a house, a ship, or a facility that ought to be inhabited with other people, but isn't, silence becomes an enemy. Shadows look darker. Echoes seem louder. The hallway from the med bay to the medical supply room wasn't very long, but it felt like a kilometer at least. My steps seemed to thunder out throughout wherever this was, and I jumped with every one of them.

The door to the medical supply room was open, and the terminal controlling the med bay functions was inside. I used it to call up the stats on the guys in the tanks in the med bay, but they only confirmed what I suspected. The others were dead. They hadn't looked like they'd had injuries so severe kolto couldn't cure it, so I called up the recent treatment requests on a hunch.

Turned out, someone had dispensed a lethal dose of sedatives to all five tanks in there, mine included. My body had to have reacted to the poison like it had been trained to do way back before the wars, or I would have been dead, too, Aithne. My body remembered the Jedi. I couldn't remember what color my lightsaber had been. I couldn't feel the Force. But my body still remembered the techniques I had learned as a child.

I don't know how I knew, but I just _knew_ that whatever was going on here would come back to me, Aithne. I didn't know _then_ that the Jedi were disappearing. The Republic hadn't told me that much. But they'd recognized me for who I was, called me by name and rank and requested my return to Republic space. A few times, during the years I was out here, my past had caught up to me and I'd had a bit of trouble. And it wasn't hard to guess that for whatever reason, however it had come about, it'd just done so again, and whatever had happened here was the result.

There were holo-logs on the terminal. The planet was Peragus II. Chiefly uninhabited, inhospitable to life, valued only for the fuel it provided. The miners that worked the fuel station on the world were the only inhabitants, so I knew right off I was in the fuel station. Apparently, I'd gotten to the facility three days prior aboard another place I couldn't remember being—the _Ebon Hawk_.

* * *

"_Wait. The _Ebon Hawk?_ You found it? Did you come here on the _Hawk_?" Aithne asked excitedly, grabbing Darden's shoulder. _

_Darden grinned. "Well, there's some _good news_, too. Yeah, I have the _Hawk_. I actually still don't know how it got from the pirates that stole it from you to me, but I could make a pretty good guess. The woman I got it from was another old friend of yours—and I don't think she'd be the type to appreciate any 'dishonoring' of something that had belonged to you." _

_Aithne blinked. "Who'd you get the ship from?"_

"_Well if you'll shut up, I'll tell you," Darden laughed. "I'm just now starting to get into this storytelling thing."_

* * *

Anyway, at the time I thought I knew something about the _Ebon Hawk_, but it'd been two years since the run-in with Jolee and Dustil, so the name didn't do much more than ring a bell. What was important to me was that, according to the records on the medical terminal, the _Ebon Hawk_ had apparently come in to Peragus with only two droids and two organics on board, and almost half-destroyed. In the log, the medical officer had no idea how the ship, which hadn't possessed any of the standard arrival codes, hadn't been destroyed in the asteroid field that surrounded Peragus II, but the even bigger mystery was how she'd survived the shot that seemed to have blown her nearly to pieces. The log mentioned an unconscious human woman that had been transferred to the med bay—yes, that'd be me—and another human woman. She'd gone to the morgue.

According to the later logs, there'd been some minor disagreement between the miners about what was to be done with me. Somehow, they knew I was a Jedi just like the Republic had known I was a Jedi, and the log said there was some sort of bounty out on live Jedi. Some guy named Coorta and his friends had apparently wanted to sell me, but the authorities on Peragus, thank the Force, hadn't been too keen on the idea. There'd been fighting. Then there had been problems with the mining droids. Then there had been explosions in the tunnels. The dead guys in the med bay had gone there for burns obtained in those explosions.

The last recorded log cut off right after the medical officer yelled they needed to evacuate.

Yeah. It wasn't good. I shut the log down, and as I did, that alarm rang out again, but this time, I really didn't think anyone would come. Murdered men, malfunctioning droids, fighting between the miners. The whole business stank of sabotage. The long and short of it, Aithne, is that I was in a mining facility in a state of emergency with maybe-rogue droids and maybe-rogue miners. The _Ebon Hawk_ might or might not still be there, but even if it was, there wasn't any guarantee that the freighter would be spaceworthy, or that there would be another ship at all. And even if I found a ship, I'd need the departure codes to get through the Peragian asteroid field and off-planet alive.

When problem-solving, it's best to handle it like storytelling, and begin with the beginning. So I decided there in the terminal room that before I did anything, I needed to find supplies and weapons. Once I was equipped to handle the situation, I could get my bearings and actually handle it, and eventually things would work out and I could get off Peragus II.

There was a plasteel cylinder in the room, and the supplies inside were actually better than I expected. Some medic had left his medicine bag in there, empty except for a single medpac, but there were also some computer spikes and a couple of energy bars at the bottom of the barrel. And a plasma torch.

I grabbed the plasma torch, stuffed the computer spikes and one of the energy bars in the bag, and unwrapped the other. I swung the bag over my shoulder and started to eat at the same time, and headed toward the morgue. The medical officer hadn't mentioned in her records whether or not she'd had time to strip the corpses I'd seen using the med bay camera, but on the off-chance that she hadn't had time before evacuation, I figured they might have valuable equipment.

The bodies were there, lying on slabs. The man on the far side of the room had started to smell. The other body was that of a woman, dressed in a brown robe. I stopped by her, finishing my energy bar and dropping the empty wrapper down into my bag. I guessed the old woman had been the one mentioned in the medical log, the one that had been found with me on the _Ebon Hawk_. I hadn't ever seen her in my life, though.

She was old—definitely over sixty, and maybe over seventy. There were wrinkles as deep as canyons all around her mouth and brow. You know how you can tell how a person has lived by the lines that develop on their face? Well her face told the story of a woman that had thought and frowned more than she had smiled and laughed. There was a lot of anger in her face, and sorrow, too. It made me a little sad, because she obviously hadn't been very happy. Also, it was too bad that I couldn't ask her how the hell I'd ended up on the _Ebon Hawk_ instead of the _Harbinger_. But it couldn't really be helped, so after I patted her briefly to make sure there wasn't anything on the body a little more deadly than a plasma torch, I moved on to the barrels in the corners of the room and the man on the other side.

The closer I got to the other guy, the more he stank. I wrinkled my nose, but I figured beggars shouldn't be choosers in mining facilities where everything goes wrong, so I grit my teeth and went for his pockets.

Then I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone _talked_ to me.

"Find what you are looking for amongst the dead?"

I was tense, I was scared, I was ready to fight. I whirled, only to see the dead old lady _sitting up_ on her slab, with her head turned toward me beneath the hood of her robe she'd raised. Aithne—it's terrifying when dead people sit up—you don't even—

Anyway, I took a brief minute to restart my heart, then addressed the sitting corpse. "You frightened me," I told her. "I could've sworn you were dead. You were cold, waxy, you weren't breathing—"

Of course, there hadn't been any smell around the woman, though according to the holo-records she'd have had to have been dead longer than the miner. Realizing this, I went quiet.

"Close to death, yes," the woman croaked. Her voice was low, dry, like dead grass crunching beneath someone's foot. "Closer than I'd like. You have the smell of the kolto tank about you. How do you feel?" She stood up.

Her voice made me shiver. "How do _I_ feel? You were _dead_! Who are you? What do you want with me?" Okay, so I was a little rude. She'd startled me.

I couldn't make out her eyes underneath that hood. I could only see the woman's pale, withered cheeks, and her wrinkled lips, the color of dry blood. But the lips pursed at me in disapproval. "I am Kreia," she told me with dignity. "And I am your rescuer—as you are mine. Tell me—do you recall what happened?"

It wasn't really an answer to the question, and it made me nervous. And seeing as I actually _didn't_ recall what had happened, and what it was Kreia was claiming to have rescued me _from_, it annoyed me a little, too. For all I knew this reanimated corpse could be anyone. "If you don't mind, I'll ask the questions for now. How did I get here?"

Kreia moved her shoulders in the vaguest approximation of a shrug. "I confess I know little more than you do," she told me. "I do not know where 'here' is. I do recall rescuing you—the Republic ship you were on was attacked, and you were the only survivor. A result of your Jedi training, no doubt."

Aithne, I had asked for the records of my name and my military history to be sealed, and right then, I could no more use the Force than I could fly. So now everyone and their dog seemed to think I was a Jedi, it was just a little disconcerting. "This is Peragus II," I told the woman. "We're in the mining facility. You know a little too much about me, Kreia. If that is your name. Darden's mine, but I think you know that."

Her silence was tacit confirmation.

"I'm not a Jedi," I informed her. "I'm not in the Order anymore."

Kreia's lips curved up. "Your stance, your walk tells me you are a Jedi," she replied. "Your walk is heavy. You carry something that weighs you down."

It was pretty apparent that Kreia was some sort of Jedi herself, and once I thought of it, I realized that that could explain the 'death'. I guessed Kreia had been in some sort of Force-induced trance that I'd woken her from when I'd searched her. But I certainly didn't want to talk about the Force and whatever might be weighing me down with a stranger, Jedi or not. Especially a Jedi. "Let's not talk about that," I said uneasily. "Let's deal with what the hell is going on right now, shall we?" I didn't really give her a chance to answer, but plowed right on. "Excellent. Why are we here?"

Kreia shifted from one foot to the other. She was nervous herself, but it didn't look like she was nervous about me. "I do not know," she said. "I was removed from the events of the world as I slept. A survey of the surroundings may provide the answers we seek. The ship we arrived in must still be in this place. We should recover it and leave."

"The _Ebon Hawk_. The medical officer's log says it was wasted, but I want to know why you're referring to 'we'," I told her. Kreia gave me a bad feeling. "I don't know you," I explained, "I have only your word for it that you rescued me from the _Harbinger_—I don't remember. So I would like to know why you think we're in this together, please."

Kreia's legs buckled, just a little. She sat back down on the slab where she had been lying when I found her. She was still weak, but she didn't mention anything about it, and when she spoke, her voice was strong. "We were attacked once," she said. "And I fear our attackers will not give up the hunt so easily—without transport, weapons, and information, they will find us very easy prey indeed."

I admit I lost my temper. Her evasiveness was grating on me. "You haven't answered the question!" I snapped. Kreia opened her mouth to answer, but she was getting paler by the second, trembling. She was trying very hard to sit straight, to stay strong. And I was yelling at her. I sighed. I couldn't just leave her here. I waved my hand. "No, it's fine," I said irritably. "You were dead, or so close to it I couldn't tell the difference. Friend or foe, I can't just abandon you, can I? But you're nervous. You're really nervous. Why?"

Kreia shifted on her slab. "Even as I slept, I felt much unrest here," she said. An answer, at last. "I saw strange visions, minds colored with fear—now, everything feels terribly silent. I would find out as much as you can about this place quickly—I fear we will need to depart as suddenly as we arrived."

Her hand quivered. I evaluated Kreia's condition quickly, and realized that, though I would like company as I explored the Peragus mining station, Kreia was in no state to go poking around for information. "Fine," I said. "I'll go look for the ship we got here on—and weapons. You stay here and rest."

Beneath Kreia's hood, I got the distinct idea that the old woman looked me up and down, taking in my current state of undress. Her mouth quirked up. "You may wish to extend your search to some clothes," she suggested drily, "If only for proper first impressions."

I acknowledged the suggestion, and started to go. But right before I left, my suspicion struck me once again, and I asked, "Kreia? The patients in the medical bay were killed by a lethal dose of sedatives. Any idea how it happened?"

Kreia shook her head. "I do not know—why did they spare you?"

"They didn't. I got the same dose, but I survived."

The old lady seemed pleased by this. "Indeed. A Jedi trance could protect one from such poisons. In fact, the sedatives may have been intended to keep you unconscious for some time. It would prove lethal to those untrained in such techniques, however. Most curious."

The clinical way she analyzed the situation was a little disturbing. Four men had died, and she called it curious! But I was really more interested, again, in how in the world Kreia knew about my Jedi training. "Who are you?" I asked her. "How do you know so much about Jedi techniques? You used one, didn't you? To survive whatever happened on the _Ebon Hawk_?"

Kreia didn't answer. Again. "Perhaps we could discuss it at length later on," she said instead. "Now we have other concerns—among them, finding our new enemy."

It was almost a promise of a future answer, and I'd known the woman five minutes and guessed that was probably all I'd get right now until both of us were someplace safer. "So perhaps when I get back from investigating this place you'll actually answer when I ask you a question?" I asked her, just for confirmation of what I suspected.

"I have found that answers come in their own time, not ours," Kreia replied levelly. "Turn your energy to the matter at hand—if we cannot find a way out of here, the answers will prove useless anyway."

I considered this, and ruefully agreed. "You have a point there, at least." I looked at Kreia one more time, pale and trembling with the effort of sitting up straight. "You'll be alright, won't you? I'll be back soon…"

Kreia dismissed my concern with a wave of her hand. "I leave you to the explorations of this place. Here I will remain and attempt to center myself."

As I turned to leave, she drew her legs up under her into a meditative pose. She was definitely a Jedi. Deep trance, cryptic non-answers, Temple posture, all the signs were there. I was in a whole heap of trouble, and only some of it had to do with a mining facility in a state of emergency. It occurred to me as I left the room and started down the abandoned hallway that Kreia was 'attempting to center herself' in the morgue. She'd asked me when she sat up if I had found what I needed amongst the dead. I hadn't, but I wondered if Kreia would.

* * *

_ "Kreia. I feel like I should know her," Aithne said musingly, looking down at the small sculpture of a building she had created with her share of Darden's spare components. "She just feels really familiar."_

_ Darden's face was an interesting study of sorrow and anger as Aithne spoke the name of the old woman in her tale. "She never believed that you actually forgot. I don't think she could bring herself to believe it. But you couldn't be expected to remember or even recognize her by the name 'Kreia'." _

_ "So it wasn't her name?" Aithne asked._

_ "No," Darden said. "Don't ask me what it actually was; she never did tell me, and I've never tried to find out for myself."_

_ "So this woman—Kreia—she's _actually_ dead now."_

_ "Yes," Darden said shortly, dismantling her assembled blaster scope with one clench of her fist._

_ "Was I close to her, before?" Aithne asked tentatively._

_ "I don't know," Darden said. "_She_ thought you were. I hope you weren't." _

_ "You _were_ close to her, then, and didn't like what you saw."_

_ "That's one way of putting it." Darden was silent for a long moment. _

_ "Do you want some water?" Aithne asked. _

_ "Yeah." _

_ Aithne went over to her kitchen-corner, and poured some water out of a pitcher into a small clay cup. She brought it back to Darden, who took a sip, then continued. "So I left Kreia in the morgue and went off by myself through the station…"_

* * *

**A/N: If you're reading? Thanks. If you review? Thank you very much. See you Thursday.**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	3. II

**Disclaimer: Do you know how painful it is to renounce rights to **_**Atton Rand**_**?**

* * *

II.

Off the Anesthetic

"_The halls of Peragus II were every bit as deserted as the echoes had led me to believe. That is, they were deserted of organics. There were plenty of droids, though. And they weren't just malfunctioning, they were hostile. _

There were corpses strewn about the hallways like litter. The whole place smelled like death. There were pools of dried blood beneath the corpses from where they'd been gunned down by the mining lasers the droids were equipped with. A few of them had broken bones from where thed droids had tried to 'mine' them. I didn't really even want to think of how painfully some of them might have died. Despite my pressing need for clothing, I wasn't really quite desperate enough to strip gory bodies for it, but I did find a vibroblade and a mining laser to add to my weapons collection. The plasma torch and vibroblade went in the bag, but I kept the mining laser. After the Council took my lightsaber, I'd always preferred ranged attacks, because it didn't allow people that attacked me to get close enough to overpower me. Without the Force—well, I'm not built like a wrestler.

I followed the course of the corridor, opening doors and manually 'disabling' droids that attacked, until I found what looked like the emergency hatch to the turbolift. I thought I'd use it to get to another level, maybe find out more of what had happened, or find the _Ebon Hawk_. But the door was locked.

I pulled on the handle, but the thing was magnetically sealed—I couldn't even hack it. In an emergency, it shouldn't have been locked. Protocol would have been for the hatch to automatically unseal to provide an escape route. Something or someone had deliberately locked the hatch down.

Just then, I felt something touch my mind. I nearly shouted out loud. And then I heard Kreia's rasping, dry voice in my head.

**This is the exit…but it is sealed…strange. In my visions, it was open. **

Aithne, try to imagine being completely alone in your head for years, alone period, deaf, blind, unable to feel or reach out to the Force. Then suddenly the Force reaches out to you. It's like overexposure, and as I heard Kreia speaking into my mind, it hurt. But beyond the pain, I didn't even know how it was possible.

I tried to follow Kreia's mental voice with my own thoughts, tried to touch her consciousness, but there was no reply.

I shivered, but I didn't have time to be freaked out. So I took three deep breaths, and kept going. There was another terminal in the next room over. This one had apparently belonged to security. I called up the functions, hoping to find a clearer perspective on what had happened at the Peragus fuel station.

The maps in the terminal established that this was the administration level of the facility, and the logs confirmed my suspicions of sabotage. The trouble with the droids had started shortly after I had arrived, it seemed. The droids had been causing the detonations in the ventilation tunnels. The droids had been attacking the organics here. Someone had tampered with them. The security officer had suspected Coorta—that miner that had wanted to sell me to the Exchange. There was a record of the security officer chewing out the maintenance officer for the problems with the droids. The security officer had gotten paranoid in the end—maybe yesterday, I thought, or the day before. He had secured a stealth field generator in the next room over as preparation for an escape, and he'd locked down the holding cells to protect someone, or to make sure that if he caught the culprit, they couldn't escape.

That entry concerning the holding cells was interesting. I navigated away from the logs on the interface, and brought up the cameras. I selected the one trained on the detention area, and grinned. It wasn't just me and Kreia on Peragus. There was a man locked in an energy cell in the holding area.

For a single moment, all I felt was relief. Walking around in that silent disaster area was eerie, to say the least, and the prospect of escaping Peragus with only a cryptic sort of Jedi that could barely stand up straight hadn't been too promising. But then I had to remember that it wasn't necessarily great news that the only person other than Kreia on Peragus I knew for certain was alive, was in prison. The man could be anyone, and maybe he was an enemy. He might be Coorta, or one of his friends. He might be the guy that had killed all the other men in the med bay. It all depended on how long the guy had been in the cell, and what he'd been tossed in there for. I looked for records on him in the security terminal, but I couldn't find anything, and the paperwork that had been strewn across the desk in the room had been bloodied and crumpled beyond recognition when the security officer had fallen on it. I considered.

The prospect of escaping from Peragus with only Kreia was no more appealing or promising than it had been before, whoever the man in prison was. I figured I could play it safe and leave the maybe-criminal in the cells to starve, or I could take a risk that the man would be grateful enough for the rescue to help me get away. Anyway, if he'd been thrown in an energy cell, any weapons would have been confiscated. That did it. I decided I'd take a chance and get him out.

The way the security officer had locked things down, I'd have to 'disable' all the droids on the level before I could access the holding area. It'd been in the log. I gripped my mining laser, and headed to the door.

This time, when Kreia's consciousness touched my mind, though it still caught me off guard, it didn't hurt.

**Be careful…there is much energy in the room beyond…yet it stems from nothing that lives.**

More forcefully than I'd been able to the first time, in my shock, I jumped on the tendril of thought and followed it back to its source. Unsure if I was doing this correctly, I thought back at Kreia.

**Kreia? How the hell are you in my head?**

I wasn't so much indignant about the invasion—though I was, a little—as incredulous that I could even communicate this way, after all these years of silence. I could feel that I'd gotten through this time, could feel that Kreia heard my presence. She didn't answer my question. Instead, she said, **Can you not sense them? Reach out…cast aside your sight, cast aside what you see, and instead, reach out with your perceptions…**

Without thinking about it, I did as she suggested. And incredibly, amazingly, I actually felt something, Aithne. It hurt, like Kreia had hurt in my head that first time. I gasped.

Kreia's satisfaction resounded in my head. **Ah…you can feel them…the droids you cannot perceive, but the small oscillations of energy…that you can feel…echoing outwards…**

I could, Aithne. I could sense energy beyond the door. It was like a hum at the edge of hearing, like a fan going on five rooms away. The energy there was apparently droids, but I could feel more than them, too. Not well. Most of what I could sense were old echoes of people and energy and things that had been. But those currents, that life, that sensation—I recognized it, even after ten years.

You know when you've been underwater too long, how your lungs are dying for air. Your chest is burning and compressed, and your eyes have gone dark. You've nearly drowned, and you finally surface, and you think that that first breath of oxygen will be so sweet, but it's not. The first breath slices your lungs like a knife. Or when you've been underground for a long, long time, down deep in the pitch blackness, and you come up out into the light, and your retinas scream at you, because the sudden radiance is blinding. Or when it's been absolutely silent for hours together, and suddenly, you hear something, and it's so loud, you have to cover your ears.

Feeling the Force again, after so long being cut off from it completely, was like that. I fell to my knees on the metal floor, bruising them, and hugged my arms around my chest, because I felt like I would burst.

**Ah—you hear it. It is faint…but it is there**. Kreia's voice in my head was calm. I was not nearly so calm.

**What's happening to me?! What are you doing?**

**It is the Force you feel…it has not been so long as for you to forget. **

Of course it was the Force! I knew that it was the Force. I knew it like I had never known anything in my life. But I hadn't thought that I'd ever feel it again**. It's been ten years**, I thought at Kreia. **It hurts, feeling it again. I don't know…I'd forgotten what it felt like.**

**Do not turn away from it. Listen…feel it echoing within you. Come—I shall guide you down familiar paths—you will need it if we are to survive and escape this place. **

I opened myself to the Force like a starving woman before a feast. I breathed it in, felt the Force swirling around me, and though it hurt, I embraced the pain. Pain is so, so much better than oblivion, Aithne. Of course I knew it was Kreia. I hadn't seen another Jedi in ten years, much less felt or used the Force. The old woman had done something to me, and for the first time in a decade, I could hear the heartbeat of the universe, even if it was faint.

I smiled, and climbed to my feet. The pain was abating, and I could still sense the droids beyond the door. I reached into the medical bag and grabbed an ion grenade I'd picked off a corpse. Game time, and I was more ready than I'd been in ten years. I pushed my gratitude towards Kreia's mind, and the question as to why she was doing this, but Kreia did not choose to answer.

I didn't hear from the old woman again until I'd cleared the entire level of those malfunctioning mining droids and stood in front of the door to the detention area. I looked down at myself. I was still only in that leotard. I looked over at one of the corpses, then shrugged. I still didn't want it bad enough.

* * *

_Aithne laughed. "Okay. What did you learn in your supposedly so informative exile that made you think that walking into a room where a man had been imprisoned for an indeterminate amount of time in your underwear was a good idea?" _

_ Darden went red. "I learned stuff about travel and blasters and crime and repair," she said, laughing a little herself. "I'm afraid that Exile or not, I stayed very much a Jedi as far as relationships went. It wasn't the best idea to walk in there like that, admittedly. I still haven't lived it down." _

_ Aithne raised an eyebrow. She raised the glass of water she had poured herself sometime during the tale. "Do tell," she said suggestively._

* * *

Kreia touched my mind right before I went in there. **Ah—beyond this door someone yet lives…be mindful…his thoughts are…difficult to read…but you have nothing to fear from this one…and he may yet prove useful. **

I was a little confused. Despite Kreia's encouragement, her thoughts about the man in the cells seemed puzzled, and even a little nervous. But Kreia at least seemed positive he wasn't an enemy, so I shrugged, and keyed the door open.

I think that was when I realized that I probably should've just dealt with the smell and stripped a corpse, Aithne. For a moment, the man just stared at me. Then he blinked. Then he looked me up and down, taking his own sweet time about it, too, and started to grin.

This was especially disconcerting because the man was much better looking than I had been able to see from the long-range cameras. He was maybe thirty-two, just a little younger than me. Broad-shouldered, but lean-limbed and lanky. He was dressed in civilian clothes, so I guessed he probably wasn't a miner. His hair fell thick and dark over a high forehead, and his dark blue eyes weren't shy in the least. "Nice outfit," the man cracked in a sardonic baritone. "What? You miners change regulation uniforms while I've been in here?"

At least the joke had the effect of killing my embarrassment, and making me angry instead. "I didn't fancy robbing a three-day-old corpse to find clothes," I snapped. "My things are gone, and there doesn't seem to be anyone alive to ask for clothing. No one except you. So. Eyes up, if you please, and tell me who you are."

The man stopped grinning then. "Atton," he replied. "Atton Rand. Excuse me if I don't shake hands. The field only causes mild electrical burns."

While it was a relief to know the man wasn't Coorta, of course the name didn't mean anything to me. "And why are you in here, if you don't mind?" I asked.

Atton Rand shrugged. "Security claimed I violated some trumped-up regulation or another—take it up with them if you want, but they stopped listening to me shortly before they stopped feeding me. Now that's criminal."

"They probably stopped feeding you because everyone's dead," I told him. "At least, they are as far as I can tell. Do you know what happened?"

Atton grimaced. "You mean, before or after that Jedi showed up? Either way, it's a real short story. You see, this Jedi shows up, and you know what that means—where there's one Jedi, the Republic will be crawling up your ion engine in no time.

"But the story gets better," he continued. "See—some of the miners get it into their ferrocrete skulls that since the Jedi's unconscious, they can collect the bounty the Exchange has posted for live Jedi. Well, what passes for the law here didn't like that idea, so the two groups started fighting. Then there was some big explosion, I was sitting here for a long time, then you showed up in your underwear and things got a lot better." He winked.

I considered his story. Atton obviously wasn't a miner. He sounded more like he'd worked for a freelance freighter. Maybe a pilot, or some other hire-on. He was someone that had signed on to ship the fuel Peragus mined someplace else, anyway. He'd broken the rules, and been chucked in the cells right before all this had gone down. The picture didn't necessarily inspire trust. While it sounded like Atton wasn't a big fan of the Exchange or selling her to him, he also clearly disliked Jedi and the Republic. And he was acting like being thrown in an energy cell for a security violation while a mining facility fell down around his ears was no big deal.

Ironically, that last made him a good candidate for an escape partner, actually. In a bad situation, Atton Rand was not panicking. So I looked at him. "Keep the testosterone in check if you possibly can, will you?" I asked. "Tell me about the bounty on captured Jedi. What's up with that?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know much about it. Maybe the Exchange wants one as a trophy, or somebody's got something against the Jedi and is looking to collect. Not many Jedi left…wouldn't surprise me if the bounty's pretty high."

Now this was the first I'd heard about the disappearing Jedi, so it surprised me a little. "What happened to the Jedi?"

Atton looked surprised by my ignorance, but he answered easily. "The ones that weren't killed in the Jedi Civil War ended up switching off the lightsabers long ago," he said. "Word is, there's not even a Jedi Council anymore—but who knows?"

The Jedi and the Jedi Council hadn't ever done anything for me, Aithne. Quite the opposite. But when Atton told me that, I found myself feeling a perverse loss. Despite my Exile, despite everything, I'd grown up with the Jedi. The Jedi helped define me, and their absence was a blow, not a gift, and not something I could shrug off. It took me a moment to reply to Atton, and when I did, my voice was small and stuffy. "The war. I'd heard about it, but I didn't believe it had really gotten that bad. The Jedi fought themselves?"

Atton Rand looked at me like I was some kind of idiot. "Yeah," he said, laughing a little. "Revan, Malak, and the Jedi that went to join them in the Mandalorian Wars. They turned against the other Jedi and had a scrap that almost laid waste to the galaxy. Heh. Where have you been?"

I'd known I was out of things, but I don't think I'd realized just how far out of things until that conversation with Atton. I knew you'd been planning something when I left, and I knew you'd done a lot when I spoke with Jolee and Dustil. But I hadn't realized that the war that had taken place had been so severe as to nearly destroy all the Jedi. Confronted with the extent of my ignorance, I felt defensive, and I looked away from Atton. "I've been away since the Mandalorian Wars," I said stiffly. "Let's leave it at that."

"Sure," Atton agreed glibly. "Well, I wasn't there, but like all Sith, Revan and Malak turned on each other. After they turned on the Jedi, of course."

Stop scowling, Aithne. You had to know there'd be stories all over space about it. It made me angry, too, though I couldn't tell you why even now. I guess I felt…protective…about your memory. I watched you fall, and I hated every minute of it. Hearing that you'd had a second chance, had come back—it had been the best news of the galaxy I'd had all through my Exile.

"Now that's a lie," I told Atton. "I haven't been back in things for long, but I do know that whatever happened after the Mandalorian Wars, Revan did the right thing in the end. Some kid told me the only reason Malak didn't burn the galaxy was because Revan stopped him."

Atton seemed uncomfortable with this restatement. He shifted and made a face. "I guess," he conceded. "There's rumors all over space about it. All I heard was Revan returned to pay Malak back for trying to kill her in the first place. You know women."

* * *

_Aithne sat bolt upright and stared. "Now that's interesting," she said. "If he hadn't seen the broadcast at the end of the war—and it doesn't seem like he had, if he's calling them rumors—most people still think Revan was a man."_

_Darden smiled. "That's what I thought, too. During the Mandalorian Wars and after, you always maintained that sexless image, and you're so damn tall…you told me once, 'Better to be a presence than a person. A face, a woman, can be beaten. An idea is much more difficult to kill.'" _

"_Or to forgive," Aithne said softly. "But nevertheless, the fact that Atton refers to me as a woman is extremely suggestive."_

"_Of course, only someone else that knew that Revan was a woman, and knew that it was strange to know that Revan was a woman would realize the significance of the reference," Darden said. "It was a slip-up on Atton's part, but he couldn't have known that."_

_ "And the only reason it would be a slip-up is if Atton was not Republic or the friend of one of my friends during the latter half of the war, but a fairly elite soldier under my command on the other side," Aithne concluded. "Very interesting. You wouldn't expect to find an ex-elite Sith soldier in an energy cell after apparently slumming it for a while. I'd thought Atton was just a dodgy idiot."_

"_When I first met him, he worked very hard to convey that impression," Darden said. "I shrugged it off, that first time."_

* * *

I looked hard at Atton, wondering how he could possibly have known about Revan's sex. I didn't even remember what she had looked like myself, the one time I'd seen her face had been so long ago. Yet judging from what I had heard on the Harbinger, and judging from Atton's talk of rumors, the truth hadn't come out at the end of the Jedi Civil War. Yet he sounded so positive.

"I heard that in the end, she had no choice but to fight him. Some weirdness went down on this Star Forge, or something," I said, slowly.

"Well I wasn't there, thankfully," Atton said, just a hair too quickly. "But I heard what she was like during the Mandalorian Wars, and it sounded like she was quick to wipe out anyone who crossed her. Dark Jedi are bad enough, but when a woman falls to the Dark Side…" he whistled. "You better space yourself before they catch you." Belatedly, he seemed to realize how he sounded. "Uh…no offense or anything."

"No one ever says 'no offense' unless they have actually said something at which offense may justly be taken," I observed, and Atton opened his mouth to protest. I grinned at him. "Don't worry. I won't fry you for a sexist pig today. I still need your help. I want to know what happened here."

Atton rolled his eyes. "Look. Not like your half-naked interrogation isn't a personal fantasy of mine, but…" He stopped in the middle of his smart-aleck remark, however, and focused on me with a sudden, alarming intensity. "Hey, wait a minute—you're that Jedi the miners were talking about!" he said. His tone was disconcertingly accusatory, like I had lied to him by not revealing this before. "You tell me what happened here!"

I spread my arms wide. "You think I know?" I demanded. "I woke up in a kolto tank an hour ago. Since then I have seen about a dozen corpses and half a dozen hostile mining droids. You were at least awake. You must have seen something."

Atton spread his arms to mock my posture. "From my beautiful view in this security cage?" he retorted. "Look, I heard some explosions, some emergency alarms, some toxic gas pouring out of the vents…maybe none of them survived whatever happened, and if they're all gone…" suddenly he seemed to realize his position, and Atton paled. "Look," he said hurriedly. "Hey, let me out, and I can help you. I can. I've gotten out of trouble countless times."

Looking Atton over, I believed him. He looked like a man comfortable on the fringes. "And you're treating incarceration like a matter of rather dull routine," I murmured. "Yes, I see. Tell me your plan, and we'll see how I'm feeling then."

"This facility isn't a military instigation," Atton replied immediately. "That means we may have a chance. You shut down this security field, and I can reroute the emergency systems so we can get to the hangars. We grab a ship and then we fly out of here."

I walked over to the panel to release him, but as I had with Kreia before him, I paused. I looked up, and regarded him. "Before I flip this switch—the other patients in the med bay. They were killed with a lethal dose of sedatives. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Atton looked back at me, genuine confusion on his face. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

So he hadn't had anything to do with the trouble here at all. That was a relief, at least, whatever sort of man Atton might be, he wasn't involved with the recent trouble on Peragus. I flipped the switch. "Never mind. The name's Darden Leona, by the way. I'm not actually a Jedi. I was…I'm not anymore."

Atton walked out of his cell. "Thanks…Darden. We done with the interrogations here?"

"Yeah, we're done," I confirmed. I rooted around in my pack until I'd found the other energy bar, then tossed it over to him.

Atton snagged it out of the air and had the wrapper off in less than a second. He took three bites before he swallowed and motioned for me to follow him. "Again…thanks. To business. Let's get to the command console."

I followed him outside of the detention area and to the command console, in front of the big window that looked out into space. The asteroids drifted out there like giant space sharks, ready to devour any ships that didn't know the way through. Atton accessed the console, and explained himself between bites of energy bar. "Now, this console is set on automatic hail. You may have heard it when you came in."

Remembering how I didn't remember coming in, I laughed mirthlessly. "No, actually. Unconscious on a ship I don't remember boarding."

Atton grinned. "Bad night at the cantina? Anyway, the asteroid drift charts are constantly being updated, so it sends out transmissions to incoming vessels so they don't get crushed into space dust. The hail warns them to keep their distance until orbital drift charts are transmitted, and then provides docking instructions to incoming ships…usually freighters." He punched a few buttons. "Thing is, you can bounce that same transmission back to the comm here…and suddenly you've got access to the communications system from the inside." He hit two more buttons. "Pure pazaak…the console's ours. Now all we need to do is reactivate the turbolifts, cancel the emergency lockdown…" he stopped. "Hey!"

I'd been watching his fingers dart over the keys, half-impressed, but half-wary that Atton seemed so use to the manifold ways to slice security. But that exclamation sounded like an obstacle if I'd ever heard one. "What?"

Atton slammed his hand down on the console. "This system's been severed from the main hub—"he explained, annoyed. "After it was locked down from remote. I can't even reroute the system; it's been cut clean."

It made an awful sort of sense. Whoever had sabotaged this station had done a very thorough job of it. "Not standard lockdown procedure," I remarked. "You know it's sabotage."

Atton nodded, eyes glinting angrily. "Yeah—someone tried to lock down this whole level tight and leave us here. Trapped."

In my experience, there's always a way out of a trap. I told Atton as much, and asked if there was anything else we could do with the console.

He snorted. "I doubt it. All we have is communications back, for all the good trying to shout in a vacuum will do us."

I considered, but there was nothing for it. "We could try the other levels—see if any of the miners survived."

"We could try," Atton said skeptically. "But if the miners were trying to trap you up here and probably kill you, why not call them up and chat? I don't think a friendly call is going to wake them up."

He made sense, but I knew that we wouldn't get anywhere just sitting here. So I smiled more bravely than I felt. "Might find something out, though. Or there might be a log in the terminal. Something that can help us."

Atton swept his hand toward the console and stepped aside. "Hey, be my guest. Not much else we can do. The comm's all yours."

I could feel the hum of energy in the console, and as I spread my fingers above it, I smiled. To sense the impulses this tiny terminal sent and received all across the vastness of the galaxy was a priceless gift. After years and years of sleep, I was finally awake. I called up the station commander's logs. There wasn't a lot of new information—Jedi arrived three days ago, problems with the miners, the mystery of the Ebon Hawk's landing, yadda yadda. I stopped. Now the holo of the commander was talking about the droids that had been aboard the _Ebon Hawk_ when it had landed. This was new information. The protocol droid had apparently gone to work in maintenance. As in, droid maintenance. That, I thought, was highly interesting. The log shut off, and I accessed the comm, attempting to call out to the dormitories. There was no reply.

Atton, standing a few feet away, looked down his nose at me. "No answer?" he said sardonically. "Yeah. How much you want to bet whatever's happened here happened there, too, sweetheart?"

His condescension was annoying. "There's a comm in the hangar, too," I snapped. "We're not giving up. And my name is Darden, Atton. If you can't call me that, then shut up."

"Ouch," Atton said, stepping back with exaggerated motions. "I didn't mean—"

I ignored him, already pressing the button to transmit to the hangar comm. "Is anyone there? Can you read me?"

The comm crackled to life, and a low series of beeps and whirs came over. Astromech. I glanced over at Atton, admittedly a bit smug. "Who's there? Come in!"

The beeping came in more clearly. The droid on the other end had approached the comm. I was suddenly very grateful I'd had the sense to learn astromech in the Mandalorian Wars. The droid identified himself as a T3-M4 expert utility droid—yes—shut up, we'll talk about it in a minute.

"You're the utility droid they found on the Ebon Hawk," I said to him. "I'm Darden Leona. T3-M4, are you operational?"

"Really. A droid. You're going to pin our escape plan on some beeping bucket of bolts?" Atton demanded. I glared at him.

T3-M4 beeped affirmatively over the comm. How could he serve, he wanted to know.

"We're trapped on the administration level," I told him. "Can you unlock the turbolifts?"

There was silence from the droid's terminal, and then he trilled a negative response.

I processed this, biting back an impatient curse. "Okay. Sabotage. Right. Is there some way out of here besides the turbolifts?" I asked.

There was a pause while our little droid colleague in the hangar accessed the station maps. Then he beeped tentatively. Apparently, he could access an emergency hatch that could get me to the mining tunnels beneath the station. From there, I could make my way through to the fuel depot and the hangar. But the tunnels would be superheated, T3-M4 warned, and volatile due to the detonations down there. He wasn't sure he'd like to go down there, and as an organic, I was much more fragile than him.

I didn't tell Atton what T3-M4 said. I didn't want to get his hopes up. T3-M4 said he couldn't access the emergency hatch from his current location, anyway. He'd need to go to the terminal in the fuel depot, and there might be more rogue droids in his way. I thought it would be better to wait and see if the droid could manage the task than to tell Atton and Kreia of a possible escape that might not pan out.

"Okay, we'll risk it," I told T3-M4. "Better that than to be trapped up here until we all starve to death. Go for it, T3-M4. We're counting on you. Signing off."

"What are we risking, now?" Atton wanted to know.

"I'll tell you if it works," I replied. I leaned up against the console, feeling the energy running through it, feeling the Force, and settled in to wait.

* * *

_"No. They never sold Teethree. Yes, he's with me," Darden confirmed to Aithne, who was bouncing up in down in suppressed excitement._

_ Aithne grinned widely. "I'm so glad!" she cried. "Losing that little droid was almost as bad as losing the Hawk herself. He was all I had left of…" she broke off. "So you came here in the _Ebon Hawk_ with T3-M4," she began again. "Who else? Kreia's dead, but what happened to Atton?"_

_ Darden kept her face impassive. "Atton is not dead," she said in a neutral tone. But though her face and voice were expressionless, her eyes danced. _

_ Aithne searched Darden's face. "You're really going to make me hear the whole thing start to finish, aren't you?" she said. "No skipping ahead or premature explanations."_

_ "No," Darden said. "I actually think hearing how it happened to me will speak my case for your return far better than I could alone."_

_ "You definitely have a knack for story," Aithne remarked. "I'm not sure if your memory is actually that good, or you just are able to fill in how it might have been that well, but I'm enjoying the tale."_

_ "I haven't told my story often enough," Darden mused. "I've spent so much time trying not to tell it. But I'm starting to learn a little better. So Teethree went off to the fuel depot and opened the emergency hatch down to the fuel lifts, but he didn't get back to me and Atton on the comm. We didn't know he'd done what I'd asked until the comm beeped…_

* * *

**A/N: Coming 4/21: Darden relates her first encounter with an HK-50 droid to Aithne, who is extremely freaked out to learn that other, even more bloodthirsty versions of her sociopathic assassin droid HK-47 have been wandering the galaxy wreaking death and destruction. **

_**Into the Gray**_** will also disappear off for good on 4/21. Just a heads up to anyone that enjoyed the original story. **

**Your support is appreciated so much more than you know.**

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp**


	4. III

**Disclaimer: In which LMSharp says don't pay her money or copyright for this purely fan-made fiction.**

* * *

III.

Not All Droids are Good

_"It took Teethree a while to get to the fuel depot and activate the emergency hatch, and meanwhile, I was stuck up in the administration level with Atton Rand in my underwear. The man was making me uncomfortable, Aithne. I'd been prepared for one or two comments, obviously. But then I'd expected Atton to get a grip on the situation, and either in gratitude, or at least in a more prioritized desire to get off the rock, shut his mouth and get on with helping with the escape. Atton had not shut his mouth. _

Nor had he had the decency to keep his eyes modestly averted from my state of undress. He just sat there against the window, waiting for T3-M4 to open a door. Not that I could blame him for that. I didn't have a better plan, either. But Atton kept _talking_, Aithne. I hadn't been with another person for any length of time for ten years, and he kept _talking_. About stupid, irrelevant things like different rule sets for Pazaak and…and _me_. What I was doing on Peragus, like I knew. What my favorite _colo_r was. And he kept _staring_, Aithne. At my face, and much lower, with a stupid little half smile on his face. Stop laughing! It was annoying!

After about ten minutes, I was halfway wishing I'd left him in that cell, and then he came out with yet another question. Lying back against the observation window with his hands behind his head he asked, "So…uh, how long have you been a Jedi? Must be tough, you know…no family, no husband."

I lost my temper. I smiled a bright, fake smile. "Actually, the toughest thing about is dealing with clumsy come-ons disguised as false sympathy from idiots. And I'm _not_ a Jedi, Atton. I told you. Not anymore. So just stop, okay? I haven't pried into how you ended up here or what you were doing before Peragus. So stick to what's relevant please. And keep your eyes to yourself!" I turned away, wrapping my arms around my torso.

Atton grinned and held his hands up. "Hey, I wasn't trying to…" That was when the console beeped, and at once he stood up. "Hey, what do you know? That little cargo cylinder came through."

I was so infuriatingly grateful just to be able to do something. I stood up, too, and went to the console. Atton moved out of the way with exaggerated motions, and I glared at him. Looking the maps over, the emergency hatch had opened, but the comm was dead. I activated it, signaling the fuel depot, but there was no response. "Yeah—he came through. But what's happened to him? Why didn't he contact us on the comm?"

Atton didn't appear too concerned about the droid. "If he got the turbolifts working then we should have a clear run to the hangar."

I turned to face him. "Yeah, well, it couldn't be that easy, could it?"

Atton stopped moving toward the still non-functional turbolift.

"T3-M4 told me when I first got in touch that fixing the turbolifts would be a no-go. They're locked down manually. I had him open the emergency hatch," I explained.

Atton didn't like this. "Wait, wait- don't tell me you're taking that hatch down into the mining tunnels. Are you? That explosion I heard came from below. There's probably nothing down there except superheated rock and collapsed blast tunnels. You'd be an idiot to go down there."

"Might be fun," I cracked. When his expression didn't change, I sighed. "Look. Atton. There's always, always, _always_ another way out of a trap. But no one said it's always easy. It's time for some idiocy, okay?"

Atton still looked like arguing, but I cut him off.

"You want out, don't you? If we go down there, we can find an alternate route into the fuel depot, or maybe even into the hangar. Then we can do lots of things. Here? We're just stuck. But if you like, you can stay up here."

I considered this briefly, liking the idea more now. I wouldn't mind a little peace and privacy, actually, even bought at the expense of facing superheated tunnels. I couldn't say that, though, so instead I said, "Actually, it's probably better that way. If I go down there and you stay up here, if something happens to me, you've still got a chance to get out."

Atton looked hard at me, and I could swear he _knew_ the real reason I didn't want him coming with me, but for all that, he still seemed impressed. "You're either really brave or really crazy—or both," he said finally. "All right—I'll try to monitor things from up here. Be careful—the only thing moving down there is likely to be mining droids, so don't be playing hero too hard." He paused a moment, and that's when I saw the very, very tips of his ears turn pink. "Uh…not that I care what happens to you or anything. I just don't want to be trying to get off this rock by myself."

A denial like that is actually counterproductive to the type of teamwork that would help someone in escaping a sabotaged mining facility, so I couldn't understand why Atton had made it, especially as judging from the ears and the very faint echo of insincerity I could feel from the Force, it wasn't even true. So I regarded him for a moment, uncertain. After a moment I realized I was staring, so I said awkwardly, "Your concern is noted. I'll go now." For some reason, I wasn't quite as annoyed with the man as I had been to minutes ago. I grabbed my stuff and started out.

"Hey!" Atton called after me. I turned, just in time to see him peel something of his wrist and throw it at me. I caught it easily. He'd tossed me his personal com-link, and he jerked his head at the command console. "I'll keep the com-link open," he promised. "I may be able to guide you through the tunnels from up here. Don't know if the signal will hold if you get too deep, though."

Nodding, I left, strapping the com-link to my own, much smaller wrist. I decided that maybe I was glad I got him out of jail, after all. At any rate, Kreia hadn't said a thing to me since I'd found Atton, and I was glad I wouldn't be walking through this place entirely alone.

The emergency hatch that had been locked before was open now, and activating it was easy. The emergency lift me down. My ears popped from the pressure, and I started to sweat with the sudden hike in the temperature.

The lift stopped, and I stepped out. The tunnels were lit with sparsely placed lamps down here, but I guess due to conservation of energy and resources, they hadn't wanted to expend too much on lighting, and the place was still dark. The lamps shone bleakly against the dark asteroid rock, like sick fireflies. The tunnels sounded every bit as empty as the halls above, but they were hotter, darker, and there were no windows. But just before I got really depressed, the com-link Atton had given me buzzed.

I pressed the tiny display screen, and Atton's face came up. But it was fuzzy, and so was his voice. "Can you read me?" he asked.

"Only just. There's a lot of static."

"There's a lot of interference down there," Atton explained. "Probably caused by that explosion. Still, you were right. It looks like there is a route down to the Peragus fuel depot, if the passages haven't collapsed. That explosion knocked out most of the sensors. There should be an emergency crate in the next room. Watch yourself. There's a lot of droid broadcasts in the area, but I can't pin them down."

Making sure to hold the com close enough that the only picture Atton would be getting was one of my face, I answered. "I handled the droids on the administration level just fine. Don't worry. I'll be careful. I'll keep the line open; if you pick up anything else, let me know."

"Will do."

The line went dead, and I headed the way Atton had recommended. There was a barrel of emergency supplies here—like there had been in the med bay terminal room. Atton had probably found that it would be here in some mining regulations file in the administration terminal. While the med bay terminal barrel had contained tech supplies in case anything went wrong with the machines in that wing, however, this barrel contained supplies in case a miner ever needed to do a little more manual labor than usual. That meant a uniform. I grinned.

Fortunately, the uniforms had been made jumpsuit-style, designed to stretch, and cut much smaller than the miners it had been made to fit.

The com buzzed again. "Find the emergency supplies?" Atton wanted to know.

"Yeah—and some clothes not previously worn by a rotting corpse."

"Dammit!" Atton cursed. Then he seemed to remember I was still online. "Uh…I mean, good. Good to hear it. No sense in you running around half-naked. It's—it's distracting…I mean, for the droids."

I took a breath to keep myself from snapping at him. Unlike the other comments he had made, this one had at least seemed unintentional, like he was _trying_ to stay focused. So coolly, I said, "I'll just give you a moment to get your foot out of your mouth."

The awkward pause afterward seemed to indicate Atton doing just that, but then he said, "Look, there may be some survey gear and a safety harness inside the crate, too. The miners wear them when staking claims on the asteroids. The survey gear is designed to spot and protect you against sonic mines…and the safety harness can be helpful if you try to disarm them."

Beneath the clothes, I saw the items he mentioned. I started to pull the uniform on, but kept talking to Atton. "That'll be useful. Thanks for the tip. Anything else?"

It must've looked weird as the camera on the com-link went all different angles when I dressed. Atton waited until I'd finished to speak again. The uniform wasn't hugely flattering. Though cut smaller than the men it was designed to fit, the uniform was still larger than _me_, and when I'd zipped it up material still sagged in awkward places, and pant the legs dragged around my bare feet, and the sleeves hung over my hands. Still, there was nothing for it. I rolled the pant legs and sleeves up, then raised the com-link to my face again.

Atton spoke. "Just one more thing—I've narrowed down some of those ID signals, and if the numbers are right, you're sharing those tunnels with a battalion of mining droids." His expression was dead serious, and I knew what he was getting at. If all the droids were rogue like the ones on the administration level, it could present quite a problem.

"A battalion," I mused, turning the dilemma over in my head, calculating how I could approach this. "Hmm. Okay."

Atton winced and hastily added, "It's not as bad as all that, okay? Those droids rely on thermal sensors, primarily to detect fuel deposits. The explosion there kicked up so much heat and steam it may blind them a little."

During my exile, though, I'd had to make some living, and I'd earned it in droid and ship repair. Gauging the heat by my thirst and perspiration, Atton was right, but so right that I could entirely relax. "A little, but not much," I told him. "Thanks for the encouragement, anyway."

Atton grimaced. "Look for the central controller down there. See if you can find a terminal by the main access shaft: that'd be governing intelligence."

That idea was of more substantial value. "And I can shut 'em down or reprogram them there. Got it. Will do," I told him.

Atton paused. "Darden—be careful."

He shut off the com-link before I could reply. I shrugged, and looked in the barrel. There were some flex-boots with a hard, protected sole that might come in handy. I pulled them on. They were big enough on me that they would blister, but not so big that I didn't know wearing them would be better than risking it in further passages that might be hotter than this one. There was a mining shield, too, that might help. I put on the survey glasses and safety harness, then peered into the bottom of the barrel. There were three or four more ration bars in the very bottom. I'd need those in a few hours, whether we were still here or not. I took them and thrust them in the pack.

As my hand went into the pack, it brushed a stealth field generator that the security officer had locked up upstairs, before I'd retrieved it. I considered a moment, then removed the safety harness and replaced it with the stealth field generator. I know you never did any sneaking around or munitions work, Aithne—whenever you went into the field at all, you just tended to crush all opposition. But, especially toward the beginning of the Mandalorian Wars, before you started giving me higher command assignments, I'd done a lot of field work, and accumulated some skill in both munitions and stealth. I was pretty confident I could disable routine mining explosives even without the harness, and I was more worried about the droids.

Equipped now for the challenge, I set off through the tunnels.

It was slow going at first. Atton hadn't been wrong about the state of things down here. It was hot and stuffy, and a couple of the tunnels had collapsed. There were a lot of sonic mines, too. Atton radioed in at one point and said in his search of the files upstairs, he'd found that one of the functions of the droids was to set charges to help mine the fuel. Since the sabotage of the droids, though, he suspected the charges were meant for organics. The mines were pretty low-grade, though. Whoever had changed the droids' programming hadn't equipped them with any deadlier weapons than they'd had to begin with, and disabling a bunch of economy class sonic mines was no big thing. I even kept a few, in case I met a stubborn door or blocked passage later on. As I progressed, I found I could sense the energy signatures of the mines, faintly.

Atton kept in frequent touch, but I didn't hear anything from Kreia. Once or twice, I prodded at the place in the back of my head where Kreia had come through before. I could feel that there was a link there, like a pinch at the back of my skull, but either I was still too unused to the activity, or Kreia had her guard up, because there was silence across the bond. I could vaguely sense Kreia was watching me, but I couldn't talk to her. She was as silent as when I'd thought she was dead.

The tunnels got hotter as I went along. The mining uniform had a cooling system in place, and it helped, but it still gets pretty uncomfortable when sweat starts plastering down your hair and dripping in your eyes. Uncomfortable or not, though, the heat kept the droids from noticing me. They still had auditory sensors, so even stealthed out I had to move slowly and quietly, but if I did, they didn't know I was there. Once, two droids came at me from both sides and just stopped. I think I stood there a whole minute with their heavy arms centimeters from my legs before they finally decided there wasn't anyone there and trundled off someplace else, and I could breathe again.

About twenty minutes along the tunnels, there was this big cavern just full of droids. They were just milling around like giant, metallic insects, setting mines, or just sitting there. It was rather strange, because now that all the organics in the area were dead, the droids hadn't reverted to their primary programming. They just waited. It was like they were purposeless, like someone had replaced their prime directive.

I picked my way across that cavern, and as I did, it got hotter and hotter. When I finally exited the cavern to a narrower tunnel, I knew my primary difficulty wasn't droids anymore. The rock up ahead was almost liquid, Aithne. Gaseous fumes in yellow and purple curled up off it. The com-link buzzed, and Atton, who had been faithfully tracking my progress down here, came in.

"Hey, that explosion has superheated the tunnels ahead."

I laughed. "Yeah—no kidding," I said, quietly, just in case the droids behind me heard. I flashed my wrist up ahead to give him a visual.

"That steam'll cook the skin off your bones," Atton warned me. "If you have a mining energy shield—switch it on—it should protect you against the heat if you move quickly enough."

"I grabbed a shield in the supply bin back there," I told him, "And I can move when I have to. Thanks for the heads up."

"Good luck. Over and out."

The mining shield was already attached to my uniform, but when I activated it, I immediately wondered why I hadn't done so before. The relief was bliss, Aithne, just bliss. Like I'd just jumped into a lake, or someone was blowing cool air all over my skin. I honestly might have stayed there and just reveled in it, but Atton had said it wouldn't last, so I ran.

When I hit the tunnel, I could feel it. The rock beneath my feet seared even through the specialized boots, which made it easier to run. I felt the energy in my shield straining as the steam curled around me in beautifully seductive swirls that I knew were just desperate to kill me. The steam made it hard to see, hard to breathe, and as I ran, I began to cough. The tunnel smelled metallic, angry, and I couldn't see the end of it. Sometimes, though, you just have to keep running.

When the shield began to fail, I reached out desperately with the Force, and felt the air clear just a few meters in front of me. My lungs were crying out for breathable air. My eyes were watering. But just as the shield failed, I broke free of the tunnel into a wider area. I began sweating again immediately, worse than before. I was a veritable fountain of stink and salt. But I could breathe, so I kept moving.

I knew this time that Atton would come in when he did, and I had the com-link raised to answer him. "Hey, you're getting close to something big," he told me. "I think it's the main ventilation shaft. The central droid controller should be somewhere nearby. Keep an eye out for it. I'm picking up a lot of droids."

The shaft ahead of me had opened up again, and I could see the controller Atton mentioned in the center of a walkway over a pit like a giant maw, where the fuel vented up from the center of the world. If I could get to the controller, I knew I could shut down the droids, find out what had happened to them, and quite possibly find a way out. But Atton was right, too. There were a lot of droids. Maintenance drones, too. I'd seen a couple of the little spheres in the smaller cavern earlier, but there were many more here. Maintenance drones are a nuisance, when droids are hostile, Aithne. They exist to repair droids that break. So if I couldn't sneak by these droids and got into a fight, the droids had a medic-on-call, whereas I was completely alone.

"I can handle the droids," I told Atton, albeit with a little bravado. As I walked further ahead, the air was becoming much better. I didn't even know if the droid thermal sensors would malfunction at all. My brave face failed. "…and the maintenance drones." I winced, and inwardly cursed as Atton frowned.

"Maintenance drones? Gun them down first, or the little pests will repair the droids. It's odd, though, that they're still active after the explosion. They don't have the same shielding as the mining droids."

I looked at one of the small spheres, hovering around just as happy as a gizka, looking none the worse for wear for the detonations down here. "I think they've been adapted," I said. "Someone's been using the droids to sabotage the facility. Before they sent the droids to kill everyone on-base, they wanted to make sure the droids stayed operational."

Atton's eyes narrowed on the display, and his mouth tightened. "I don't like this. Be careful."

I stared at the display. For someone that claimed not to care what happened to me, Atton was being extremely helpful, and worrying an awful lot. He actually reminded me a little of the soldiers under my command in the Mandalorian Wars, desperate to prove themselves strong and brave, yet absolutely terrified for all that, reliant on my strength as their commander. I didn't like the parallel. I hadn't been responsible for anyone else's courage or hope in years, and the last time I had been, I had accomplished my objective, but let thousands of _them_ down. I shut off the com-link, disturbed.

But I knew that I couldn't worry about the histories, stories, and motivations of my allies until after I'd finished clearing a path to a ship. So I shrugged off the disquiet, and reactivated my stealth field.

Moving even more slowly than I had in the cavern, I crept up to the central droid controller, keeping my finger on the trigger of my mining laser and pausing every time a droid so much as creaked. It took me almost five minutes, but at last I reached the console and relaxed. I stood up straight, and looked around.

Around the rim of this great wide shaft were four power generators. These, I knew, provided the energy both for the mining operations down here in the tunnels, and for the droids. All four power generators were hemmed in with containment fields. The only way out was the way I had come.

So I accessed to console to see if I couldn't make another way out. I called up the droid functions. I'd been right: the droids had been issued with a new prime directive, but the source of the order had been removed from the system's history. Also, I couldn't see what the directive had been, but given my history with droids, I could guess. A saboteur can change the primary directive, see, but unless he has a lot of time and some serious skill, he can't change the primary programming. The programming is diverted, not replaced. So on a hunch, I entered a new sequence into the programming computer. All the droids in the room went still for a moment, then resumed their insectoid meandering, but this time, I thought they might just be harmless.

Returning to the main computer menu, I accessed the level plan. According to the maps, there were two other ways out of the main shaft other than the way I had come in. One had caved in, but that wasn't too much of a hardship seeing as it led right back to the administration emergency turbolift for maximum escape efficacy. But the other route was wide open, past the containment field. It lead to the fuel depot turbolift. I checked the stats on the lift, and grinned. It was active. It hadn't been fun, but it had been worth it, coming down here.

I shut down the containment fields, shut off the stealth field, and crossed the bridge over the pit to the other side. I went up to a droid to check my work. "Hey—hey droid!" I yelled at it, waving my arms around. The droid levered itself up on its front legs to regard me dimly with its visual sensor. But it did not attack. So I shoved my mining laser in my waistband, bent over, and flipped the maintenance switch. If I couldn't see the orders on the intelligence computer, I thought I just might be able to see them on the droid's personal hard drive. The droid went passively into maintenance mode, and on the interface below the droid's central computer, I called up its recent history. My guess had been right on target. My recent order was displayed: 'cancel mining functions on organics', but before that, two days ago, the droid's primary directive had been changed. Instead of fuel, it had been set to mine organics. The orders traced back to the maintenance officer.

I shut the interface down and stepped back. It made sense, of course, for the droids to have been sabotaged in maintenance, but the discovery clashed with the records upstairs. The security officer had interrogated the maintenance officer on the station breakdown. The maintenance officer—a scrawny, red-headed man in his mid-twenties—had seemed entirely clueless. But then, I recalled, the administration officer had mentioned that one of the droids found with me and Kreia on the _Ebon Hawk_ had gone to work in maintenance. Not T3-M4, a protocol unit. Right after that assignment, the trouble had started. I didn't like where that train of thought led, though. If the protocol droid was the saboteur, or working for the saboteur, he would have had to forge the maintenance officer's digital signature, somehow. And if the protocol droid was the saboteur, what kind of programming would it have to have to enable this kind of destructive behavior? Or if it was working for the saboteur, who was its partner?

The com-link buzzed, interrupting my speculation. "Hey—I'm picking up some strange readings—what are you doing down there."

Looking at the chronometer on the display of the com-link, I realized I had been standing musing for about ten minutes together. I started moving toward the exit. "I'm trying to find a way out," I said. "What kind of readings are you picking up?"

"The containment fields in the mining tunnels are shutting down," Atton said. I could see him frantically pressing buttons on the administration console. "You need to get out of there before they vent fuel to the surface of the asteroid through the tunnels."

* * *

_ "Yeah, I'd wondered why you were standing around. Containment fields exist for a reason," Aithne pointed out laconically. She'd put aside Darden's components, and instead retrieved a few more bright colored tunics from beneath her pillow, and started sewing curtains to match the rug. _

_ "Okay, _everything _was weird on Peragus," Darden said defensively. "It just didn't occur to me that the containment fields were a perfectly normal system response to the detonations and the heat in the tunnels."_

_ Aithne clicked her tongue. "Sloppy," she said. "Always take complete stock of your surroundings; never assume anything. Otherwise, you miss things."_

_ "Thanks, Commander," Darden said sarcastically. "I'll keep that in mind."_

_ "Hey, I'm here to help," Aithne replied lightly. "So, go on. The containment fields had been holding in a lot of the worst of the heat—you shut them down and then stupidly stood around thinking for ten minutes when you needed to be making your exit. Atton called to tell you that you were about to be cooked, and—"_

* * *

I hadn't realized how much hotter it'd gotten while I'd been thinking. I brought up a hand, and realized my hair was entirely plastered down from sweat, and the metallic smell was starting to fill the caverns again.

"Right. Er…how much time do I have?" I asked Atton, trying very hard to sound off-hand and not at all like this was entirely my fault.

Atton's fingers danced over the administration console. He didn't even look at the display. "I may be able to keep it contained until you get the turbolift to the fuel depot," he told me, "But not for much longer. I'm locking that emergency lift to the administration section now to keep the blast from spreading—you're too far from it now to get back there, anyway. If you've got anything left to do down there, make it quick, because where you are is going to get real hot, real soon."

"Got it," I said, switching off the com-link. I ran.

The heat emanated from the main shaft, so it basically chased me down the tunnels. The air was just starting to become unbreathable again when I finally made it to the turbolift, just in time.

I imagined that Atton had had a time of it holding the explosion off that long, because the turbolift fairly shot up as the explosion went off underneath it. The doors opened on the fuel depot and I rolled out, like a fish jumping out of a net. The doors closed behind me, and a buzzer sounded, letting me know the turbolift had been damaged. I wouldn't be going back that way. The detonations I'd set off had damaged the tunnels far beyond what any saboteur had done. No one would be working down there for a long time.

I lay on the floor of the fuel depot, gasping. It was cool here, blessedly, amazingly cool. The facility had great insulation. After a while, my heart slowed down enough for me to sit up, and when I did, I saw a water fixture on the wall across from me. I stood, and my legs shook like a gelatin dessert. But I made my way over to it, and drank deeply.

I hadn't found any water since that the fresher in the med bay when I first woke up, and I had probably sweat out two liters of the stuff down in the tunnels. My tongue was like sandpaper in my mouth, and my throat had been scratched raw by the steam down below. The water cooled and soothed as I drank, filling me up and rejuvenating me. I kept pumping it long after I was no longer thirsty, using it to wash my face, hands, and head. Yes, okay, so it wasn't extremely sanitary, Aithne. Sanitation is for people in comfortable apartments with regular jobs and living neighbors. Sanitation is for people without bounties on their heads in possession of their short-term memory. And you will not believe how much better I felt after I was somewhat cleaner and better smelling.

I shook the wet, but no longer sweaty, hair out of my eyes and ran my fingers through it. Then I rolled my shoulders, ready to proceed, and looked around.

The sabotage had been a facility wide catastrophe. Even here, there were corpses in the corner and blood on the floor, and everything was far too silent. There were four other doors in the hall I was in, besides the now defunct one to the turbolift. Two led to a largish room on the right, one led straight ahead, and one open one led off to the left. I looked in there, and saw a workbench.

It rather surprised me that here, in what was apparently the maintenance wing of the facility where all the trouble had started, the droids had still run riot.

I tried to access the com-link, to ask Atton if he could access anything about maintenance on the command console, but the other end of the link had gone down. The display was fuzzy, and all I could hear was white noise. I guessed that the explosion had probably knocked out communications with Atton Rand, at least for a while. I tried the mental link with Kreia again, but still nothing from her. I was alone, and it was every bit as creepy as it had been before I'd found the others. I reflected it would probably stay that way until I worked a way out of the fuel depot.

I went into the room with the workbench. There weren't many clues there, no console. Just random droid parts lying all around. But there was a plasteel cylinder beside the bench, and in it there was a sonic sensor and a datapad. The datapad indicated that the maintenance officer—a Reddic Carlisle—had been telling the truth to the security officer. He hadn't had any idea what was going on with the droids he was supposed to be in charge of. He'd recognized it had to be sabotage, though, and he'd been working against it. He'd been working on a new voice-lock security system for the droids, and for a few other things. The protocol droid—an HK-50—had been helping him with it.

* * *

_Aithne spit out the mouthful of water she'd just taken. "Galloping gizka!" she gasped. "HK-_50_? Darden—who got ahold of the HK template after the pirates stole the _Ebon Hawk_?"_

_ Darden looked at Aithne for a moment, then chuckled. "Galloping _gizka_? Seriously?" _

_ "Oh, because 'Sithspit' and 'dammit' are so much more creative," Aithne snapped impatiently. "And if you'd had a gizka plague during your tenure as captain of the _Ebon Hawk_, you wouldn't deny 'galloping gizka's' validity as the filthiest of swears. Darden—the HK-droid. I built this assassin droid—after you left, but before I abandoned the Sith. HK-47. I still had him when I left a couple years after the war, and when those pirates stole the _Ebon Hawk_. He had this memory glitch function, where I could short-circuit his memory and his access to his complete functionality, but I didn't have time to trip it before—you know. Darden, HK-47 is genuinely _dangerous_. He's wiped out entire _companies_ before. If those pirates found out about him, or he fell into the wrong hands-"_

_ "Neither, we think. As far as we can tell, you commissioned the HK-50 line and put it into production in a hidden factory shortly after the destruction of Telos. However, the template got corrupted, you discontinued production, and everyone forgot about it until about a year before the story, when…a sort of droid fanatic found the factory, and started up production again. But don't worry," Darden said. "The HK-droid thing was a problem, but it isn't now, okay? A very good friend of mine made sure it won't be ever again. And the original's with me. He was blown apart when the pirates stole the ship, but Teethree helped me fix him."_

* * *

So I grabbed the sensor and crossed the hallway, and almost stepped on the body of Reddic Carlisle. His leg was broken, and he had bled from multiple laser and trauma wounds. His face was twisted in agony and fear, but still recognizable. So even he hadn't gotten away.

Something moved then, in the corner. A droid. But this droid didn't attack me. It was a protocol model, gunmetal gray with strange yellow eyes. "Greeting: It is a pleasure to see you alive again, Master, provided my receptors are not off-focus. How may I be of assistance?"

I blinked, uncertain how to respond. The droid's welcome was the most cheerful I'd had on Peragus yet, in a more tonally varied voice than I'd ever heard a droid use. And though the droid called me 'master', I'd never seen it before in my life. "What are you talking about?" I asked finally. "I'm not your Master."

"Answer: I am a survivor of the Harbinger, just as you were, Master," the droid answered. "With the unexpected termination of my previous master, you are the only organic which I may now serve."

Now I was even more confused. This droid had to be HK-50, the protocol droid found with me, Kreia, and T3-M4 on the _Ebon Hawk_, and the possible saboteur or partner to the saboteur of this facility. But if it had come from the _Harbinger_, too, perhaps it could tell me how I'd ended up on the _Ebon Hawk_, instead, and what had happened since. "Who was your previous master?" I asked it.

"Answer: the captain of the _Harbinger_, master. I was in transit to Telos to facilitate communications and terminate hostilities…however, we did not arrive at our intended destination."

Looking around, I had to admit that we certainly had not. "I don't suppose you know what did happen?" I asked HK-50.

The droid's head swiveled, and for a second its yellow eyes glowed brighter. "Irritated Answer: Oh, Master, it is such a long, dull story," it said. "And not terribly relevant to our current situation."

I don't really like insubordinate droids. I glared at the model. "Indulge me."

The HK-50's gears clicked. "Hesitant Explanation:" it began finally, "That has been the subject of considerable discussion since our arrival here, Master. Many have tried to claim you and this unit as salvage. I was crudely interrogated concerning our brief history together on board the _Harbinger_…before its communications, weapons, and engines suffered the cascade failure that disabled the ship."

Contrary to the droid's statement, a cascade failure of communications, weapons, and engines on the _Harbinger_ sounded similar enough to what had happened here at the mining station that I believed the story would definitely prove relevant. But I had no memory of this failure. "How is it that I don't remember any of this?"

The droid's head moved from side to side before it answered tentatively. "Speculation: It is possible you were incapacitated and locked in the well-shielded cargo compartment as the _Harbinger_ was being systematically crippled, Master."

I shifted so that my hand was closer to my blaster. I'd reported to the med bay for a physical. It wouldn't have been too hard for someone to drug me to incapacitation by a shot that _hadn't_ been the routine Telos disease prevention booster. "Right," I said. "And I got from the cargo compartment to here…how?"

"Recitation:" the droid said in a bored-sounding voice, rolling his 'r'. "Following the unusual set of coincidences that led to the cascade failure in the _Harbinger_'s systems, we were boarded by a small freighter with unknown ID codes. It appeared that this freighter had been attacked, and the captain wanted to study it. This freighter appeared to still be spaceworthy." All of a sudden, the droid's tone changed, taking on a more angry sound as its visual receptors flared. "Your cargo compartment was breached. You were taken aboard the freighter shortly before the _Harbinger_'s systems began to go critical. I, too, managed to board the freighter before the _Harbinger_'s destruction. We were most fortunate to have survived, Master."

So the way it looked, if my gut was anything to go by, is that I had been drugged and incapacitated in the med bay of the _Harbinger_ by this droid or some other party, that had gone on to seal me in a cargo hold and sabotage the Republic ship. Kreia must have been the one that got me off the _Harbinger_ and to the _Ebon Hawk_, but several questions remained unanswered. What had Kreia been doing on the _Ebon Hawk_ in the first place? What trouble had she been in, that the captain of the _Harbinger_ had wanted to board to investigate and assist? How in the galaxy had she known to come and rescue me, when it sounded like Kreia's ship had been the one in the original distress, sabotage aside?

I looked up at HK-50. "Tell me about the freighter. What had happened to it?"

"Evaluation: Master, I do not know," the droid confessed. "Judging by the damage, it had been attacked by a much larger vessel. And when it attempted to escape the _Harbinger_ with you on board, it was fired on again."

And again, that didn't make sense. HK-50 had said the weapons systems on the _Harbinger_ had been failing. So how had it been able to fire on the _Ebon Hawk_? And why had it done so? The _Ebon Hawk_ was a Republic ship, wasn't it? The logs upstairs had indicated as much. The Republic had wanted to get me to Telos, not kill me. Someone—or somedroid—had gone out of their way to make sure the Republic _couldn't_ get me to Telos, but hadn't counted on Kreia. Still, it could indicate a third party.

Throughout all my musing, HK-50 had still been talking. "Addendum:" it finished. "It does seem odd that such a small vessel has a high probability of attracting the attention of much larger vessels. Not a welcome trait in a freighter, to be sure."

"Why did the _Ebon Hawk_ take me on board?"

"Speculation: I do not know, Master," the droid admitted. "Perhaps it was always its intention to play dead, then kidnap you off the _Harbinger_ and rob me of my bounty."

The phraseology was interesting, and served as proof that my suspicions regarding the droid were correct. "Bounty?" I repeated.

HK-50's circuits whirred just a second too long. "Clarification: By 'bounty', I refer to your life, Master," it said awkwardly. "It would pain me to see you damaged in any way. That is why the arrival of this _Ebon Hawk_ caused me considerable distress."

I still didn't really know what had gone on with the _Harbinger_ and the _Ebon Hawk_, but what had happened here on Peragus, at least, was becoming clearer by the second. The Exchange had a bounty on Jedi. I had a feeling Coorta and his friends had tried to lay claim to what an assassin droid already thought of as his own.

With assassins, though—when they're not attacking you directly, that is—it's always best to pretend you don't notice them until you have a chance to get away. Especially when they're pretending to be friendlies. So instead of challenging the droid on his misrepresentation, I asked HK-50 why the _Ebon Hawk_ had come to Peragus.

"Apology:" the droid apologized. "My memory cannot provide a clear answer on that point, Master. Suffice it to say that once we arrived on this floating rock our situation became much clearer."

I briefly considered leaving it at that, but then persevered. If anyone asked me what had happened here once I left, I might need to bear witness. "How so?"

"Explanation:" the droid explained. "Despite my market value, Master, the miners were far more interested in you. It did not take me long to ascertain the reason for this. While an HK protocol droid is a valuable piece of property, Jedi are worth much more in certain…exclusive markets across the galaxy.

"Painful Admission:" it added, "I must confess to feelings of inferiority at the speculated difference between my value and the price for your capture. I was forced to remind myself it was not due to a failing of my model or function, but because you were a Jedi."

That of course reminded me that the galaxy at large shouldn't know that I had been a Jedi. "I'm not a Jedi," I told the HK-50 unit. "Why did the miners think I was?"

"Surprised Answer:" said the droid, sounding completely unsurprised. "Why, I told them, Master. You are a Jedi that served with Revan in the Mandalorian Wars, are you not? I hope all that has happened has not been the result of miscommunication. If so, then the problem lies with the coreward databases, which are notoriously spotty."

Had he got that information from the coreward databases, then? It shouldn't have been there, I thought. I had requested the Republic remove that information from the databases and lock their own files. I had seen an admiral comply with my request. The only place the information on my history should have been accessible was the Jedi Archives, and only by a Jedi Master. So if the information should have been inaccessible, but suddenly everyone knew, there was a leak. And if there was a leak, half the galaxy would be after me. I informed the droid of these facts.

He caught the implied accusation this time, though on the whole HK-50 was demonstrating himself to be very bad at deception and even worse at subtlety. "Indignant Exclamation: Master, I am only a protocol droid!" he insisted. "But it is part of my function to know such information and relay it to any interested parties, in the interests of terminating any potential hostiles."

With droids, the programming always shows. But considering that the droid's programming was showing now, when it was trying to remain incognito, I was forced to reevaluate my decision to keep my suspicions quiet. I knew it might start trying to kill me any minute. "Terminating potential hostiles? As in, killing them?" I asked pointedly.

The blunt question seemed to shock the droid back into its disguise. I heard a clunk in its processor. "Quick Clarification: Apparently my vocabulator has suffered some damage, Master," it tried to explain. "I mean terminating any potential hostilities."

Maybe it wouldn't break out the blaster rifle just yet, but the droid was scaring me more and more. "I see," I said uncomfortably. "So what has been happening with the miners?"

"Answer: All that has happened has been because they believe you to be a Jedi, Master," the droid informed me. "They debated what to do with you as you lay unconscious in the medical bay. One group seemed intent on selling you as property. The other group opposed this."

"Yeah, the records upstairs tell me that much," I said, a little impatient. "But _what happened_? Exactly?"

Droids don't have facial expressions, except the ones made by really perverted people. But HK-50 gave off an undeniable air of satisfaction as he replied. "Answer: Three standard hours after the division between the miners became apparent, accidents began to occur throughout the facility. A result of improper maintenance, I believe. These accidents coincided with the degradation of the mining droid behavioral cores…crude models are prone to such failures, resulting in murderous rampages. The mortality rate of organics in the facility rose quickly."

"I see," I said, struggling to swallow my disquiet. "But what happened to the ones that weren't killed?"

"Answer:" answered HK-50. "Many miners began to join you in the medical bay as a cascade of flawlessly time detonations occurred in isolated gas pockets in the lower levels of the facility. The explosions herded the miners into emergency sections of the station, quickly and efficiently cutting them off from communications and facility control…but sadly enough, not the ventilation systems."

I almost lost the two ration bars I'd eaten in the last three days. "How do you mean?" I all but squeaked.

"Explanation:" the droid trilled gleefully. "You see, the explosions had damaged specific sections of this facility's ventilation systems, causing a slow, lethal build-up of toxic fumes in the dormitory level."

My finger clenched on the trigger, and I swear I nearly shot that droid, Aithne. But I didn't, because I still needed information from it. So instead, I turned aside, and breathed long and deeply until I could control myself. "Do you think there are any left alive?" I managed at last.

"Answer: I do not know, Master," HK-50 said happily. "Ironically enough, any miner that fled to the dormitory level to protect themselves from the droids and the explosions would find themselves in a gas-filled deathtrap."

I just stared for a moment. Never before had I met a droid capable of assassination on such a massive scale, and for so little reason. "What are you?"

"Proud answer: I am an HK series protocol droid—"

* * *

_"—Just…stop," Aithne said, cradling her head in her hands again. She shook. "Darden—Force, it's all my fault."_

_ Darden paused in her story. Then she moved from her position against the wall to face her old commander. She waited until Aithne lifted her head, and her hair fell away from her face again. She met her gaze. "Aithne. Listen to me. You have to understand this right now, because it's the only way people like you and me can survive. _There is a difference between causality and responsibility_. We both have more than our share of responsibility—terrible things we have intentionally done or ordered done. No matter how far we run or what we try, we can't get away from that guilt, and I don't think we'll ever be able to. But _we are not responsible_ for all the things that are done by other people in our name but without our consent, or things influenced by, but not ordered by us, or done merely because we happened to show up someplace."_

_ Aithne raised her head a little further. Her face was chalk white. "I made HK-47, and because he was stolen, that droid got made, Darden," she argued. _

_ "Because the Exchange had a bounty on me and I ran into him, HK-50 slaughtered the entire Peragus facility," Darden replied. "So who's to blame? You for losing a droid you never intended to lose, or me for stepping aboard the _Harbinger_? Or the entity that restarted the production of the corrupted HK models? Aithne—you and I share causality for what happened on Peragus, but we aren't responsible for it, and we don't have to bear _that_ guilt."_

_ "He's like a parody of HK-47," Aithne muttered. "But instead of being funny, it's just horrible." She swallowed. Tucked her hair behind her ears. _

_ "So HK-50 sabotaged the Peragian mining facility and slaughtered all the workers there," Aithne summed up. "What else did you find out from him?"_

_ Darden glanced at Aithne, and she bit her lip. "There was a little more conversation about his capabilities—it wasn't pleasant and I won't subject you to it. And I eventually guessed that if he was trying to contain me, he had probably disabled Teethree before he could do anything else to help. But I finally got around to asking him just how to get out…"_

* * *

"So, about that service you can do me," I said. "I'm trying to get to the hangar."

HK-50 suddenly came to attention, which had the effect of making me feel very short, indeed. Why did you make the model so tall, anyway? So it could look Alek in the face? "Pitying Answer:" HK-50 said slowly. "Oh, that is unfortunate, Master. The hangar is sealed behind a containment field. It would be impossible to open it."

I was getting damn tired of the hurdles. "Not if I shut down the containment field," I managed through gritted teeth. "There has to be an override code, right?"

"Answer: Only the Peragus administration officer would have such codes, Master," HK-50 said. "If he hasn't already been murdered in an unfortunate accident, then he is trapped in the dormitory section, which has been effectively cut off from the facility be explosives."

Aithne, it was starting to get to the point where I felt it was going to take me the rest of my life to get off that blame asteroid. I left HK-50 and paced the room a couple times just to keep from exploding, repeating under my breath what I had told Atton: There is always, always, always another way out. When I finally felt that I _wasn't _going to explode in a facility that had had a few too many detonations already, I returned to HK-50. "What's the alternate route to the dormitories?"

Fortunately, the HK-50 programming is at least nominally conditioned to aid organics, and the droid responded. "Theory: You could walk across the surface of the asteroid to the dormitory airlock," it said, taking care to sound very uncertain. It hastened to add, "But such a route would be extremely hazardous, and I do not wish to see you damaged."

I couldn't resist muttering, "I'll just bet you don't." More loudly, I said, "But if there's any chance that some of the miners might be still alive, I've got to help them. And I need those codes."

HK-50's visual receptors glowed, and in a stronger tone than any he had used thus far, he said, "Warning: Master, continued exploration of this facility may place you in unnecessary danger. I encourage you to return to the medical bay and wait for retrieval from a vessel that is no doubt on the way even as we continue this pointless conversation."

Of course, I knew if I did that, I would end as an Exchange slave or a dead bounty. So I stepped right up to HK-50, hand on my mining laser. "You call me Master, so I'll decide the plan of action," I told the droid. "And I've decided to get to the dormitories and see if there's any miners left to rescue. So help me."

"Weary Resignation: Very well, Master," HK-50 said at last. "But there is very little I can do. You see, the airlock is restricted by a code."

"Of course it is," I couldn't help snapping. "Dammit! Who's got _that_ code?"

HK-50 gave off that insufferable smug impression again. "Correction: Oh, I already possess the code, Master, but I am afraid that it will do you no good."

"It won't? Why not?" I demanded, ready for a fight.

"Condescending Explanation," HK-50 explained condescendingly, "Master, the console controlling the droid maintenance area…and the airlock…is voice-printed. Musing: In the last days of his life, the maintenance officer was quite careful about voice protocols, bordering on paranoid obsession. Conjecture: I suspect once he realized something was wrong in the facility, he voice-locked the droid-bay functions. A prudent measure, but in the end he met the same fate as the rest of the organics."

And suddenly the sonic sensor made sense. If I could find enough voice samples—and HK-50 knew the code…"That's him, there?" I asked the droid, gesturing at Reddic Carlisle.

"Confirmation: That is all that remains of the maintenance officer, Master. At the end, he was quite incoherent from the pain, and attempts to facilitate communication with him proved useless. I heard his dying screams as the droids he tended turned on him, mining him like a piece of asteroid rock."

It was incomprehensibly horrible to imagine HK-50 just standing there as the mining droids had killed Carlisle. "You heard him screaming?" I heard myself say, faintly.

"Recitation: Oh, yes, Master. The record of his last moments were…"

* * *

_ "—I'm never going to forget _that _the rest of my life, but I'm certainly not going to tell you about it," Darden told Aithne, who was sitting pensive and still against the wall. "I didn't even want to know. The important thing is that I discovered that the HK-series droids can mimic voices very well."_

* * *

I closed my eyes, and swallowed the sick taste in my mouth. "Thank you," I told HK-50. "That was very interesting and informative. Now. You do know the code the maintenance officer used to lock the dormitory airlock?"

Condescending Explanation: Oh, yes, Master. The code is 'Maintenance Control: Voiceprint ID: R1-B5'," he said in his normal droid tones. "But unless the Maintenance Officer speaks the code, it is useless.

I glared at him. "I don't see how that's a problem. You can mimic voices. You can speak the code for me."

"Objection:" HK-50 objected in faux-angered tones. "Master! To commit such an act would be a violation of the ethics programming most droids are believed to possess. I am afraid there is nothing that can be done."

Obviously, this droid did not possess the ethics programming to which he pled, but it was equally obvious he was refusing to just give me a way out of an area in which he could control me. The droid had revealed some pride in his functionality, however, so fingering the sonic sensor in my pocket, I decided to try something different. Faking a cruelly disappointed expression, I said, "Look, don't worry about it, HK-50. I understand if your limited functionality prevents you from mimicking the maintenance officer's voice accurately."

"Irritated Objection: Master, there is nothing wrong with my communications functionality," HK-50 declared, aggrieved. "I will prove it. Recitation:…"

I activated the sonic sensor. "Maintenance Control: Voiceprint ID: R1-B5," HK-50 said in Reddic Carlisle's voice. I stopped the recording. "Query: Was that sufficient, Master?" HK-50 wanted to know.

"Perfectly sufficient," I told him. "I'm sorry I ever doubted your capabilities. I'll just…er…be going now." I gave the assassin droid a little wave and walked out of the room and to the end of the hall I had yet to explore. I guessed the turbolifts were this direction and hoped that HK-50 would think I was going back to the medical bay to wait for his Exchange ship. At any rate, he didn't follow me.

Considering what I knew about HK-50, the objective was to get some weapon better than a mining laser, take care of the droid, and get away before he 'terminated' the 'hostilities' of the other two organics I knew still lived on Peragus and drugged me again.

The last door in the hall led to the fuel depot proper. Silver cases of Peragian fuel were stacked against metal and glass walls that surrounded various shafts of lifts from the tunnels below, where I guessed the fuel was cased to be transported and held here until shipping. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to admire the design of the station because it became immediately apparent that the droid reprogramming I'd done down in the tunnels hadn't bridged levels, or that the heat in the tunnels had kept the signal from reaching. Four droids which had been standing around before I came out the door, attacked me once I had done so. I dodged, rolled, and ducked behind the door for cover. Ripping open my pack, I tore out the mines and grenades I'd been able to scavenge from the other levels. Laser scored the wall behind me. I could hear the metallic scrabble of metallic legs on the metallic floor as the droids moved nearer. I darted out, threw a grenade, and ducked. I heard clangs as two droid chassis' hit the floor. I rolled, and came up shooting with my mining laser at the other two. The droids didn't track well, didn't turn well. I took them out, too.

I stood, a little winded, and looked around. I could see the blue containment fields HK-50 had mentioned. They cut off the left side of the fuel depot, the side that connected to the hangar. I could only go right, and so that was what I did.

There was a series of rooms to the right, as well as a few more droids. These were a different model. Not insectoid like the mining droids down below. These droids had been used to pick up fuel cases. They were bigger, and bipedal, with more sophisticated lasers. It took me a little longer to disable them, and when the fight was over, I glared at my little mining laser. It had served me well, but at the end of the day, a mining laser only goes so far.

The maintenance terminal was in a room on the right of a hallway similar to the one on the other side of the depot. With the voice-code I'd recorded on the sonic sensor, full access to the terminal was a piece of cake. I checked the logs and cameras out of habit—but I'd pretty much learned everything Reddic Carlisle had known the past few days already. It wasn't until I pulled up the camera feed of the fuel line that I saw something different.

There was stuff in the fuel line, Aithne. I could clearly see a mine, a metal case, and a droid. The droid was a utility model, and I frowned. I had finally located our little astromech friend. I called up stats on the fuel line, because if I could figure out a way to get him out, I wanted to do so. T3-M4 had been a huge help. But when I actually looked at the stats on the fuel line, I blinked. Turned out, Aithne, that the fuel line was pretty much the only part of the facility that never shut down. It ran straight from storage in the hangar area to whatever ship happened to be picking up fuel from Peragus at the time. It went under the depot, past security…the long and short of it was that if a ship docked at Peragus, I could climb straight past the containment field. Of course, I'd have to avoid the heat. And the fumes. And I didn't even know if I could get in there, with no ship docked at Peragus right now. But somehow, HK-50 had gotten in to dump T3-M4 and whatever that case was. I knew, however, he wouldn't be telling me how.

After a brief reflection, I decided that the override codes for the containment fields were still my best option, even if it meant I wouldn't be able to get to T3-M4. I logged out of the camera menu and into the map. I'd been right about the direction of the turbolift. Turned out, the turbolift to the administration level was working down here, and if I took it, I could break lockdown up there. So if I could get the override codes from the dormitory, I would have a working turbolift to go get Kreia and Atton Rand and come back to the hangar. Then, provided the _Ebon Hawk_ was spaceworthy, it'd be goodbye Peragus.

I hesitated before leaving the terminal. There might be more droids, or something else in the dormitories, and I considered that it might be more prudent to go upstairs before crossing the surface of the asteroid, to see if Atton, at least, cared to help me out. Kreia had seemed too weak to move, the last time we'd talked, and she hadn't thought anything at me for hours. After due deliberation, however, I decided that Atton wouldn't be much stronger than Kreia after days of prison and two or three days of no food and water. Better to let him stay up on administration, where it was safe. He could use the fresher, drink some water, and recover himself. He might even come up with a better plan than I had, seeing as I basically had no plan. It was still better that Atton stay up on administration, so that if anything happened to me, he still had a chance. I reflected that the Exchange wasn't after Atton. I believed that HK-50 had sent for an Exchange contact, and when they arrived, they might take Atton and Kreia on board. Atton seemed like a capable enough person, and would probably be just fine if I didn't make it. I didn't know about Kreia, though.

She'd be fine if I found the codes, though. They'd all be fine if I found the codes. I used the sonic sensor again to remote-unlock the dormitory airlock, adjusted my grip on my mining laser, and left the room.

There was a spacesuit in the airlock locker. Of course, it was even bigger on me than the mining uniform. I felt like a kid playing dress-up, like I was floating in it even before I left the facility's gravitational field. My hands felt more like paddles than actual tools by the time I air-sealed the suit and activated its oxygen tank, but somehow I managed to close the airlock and open the door to the asteroid surface.

There was a metal walkway leading out across the surface of the asteroid, up a ramp, down another and over to the dormitory level. I was grateful for the direction, because it meant I wouldn't have to guess where the dorm was and bet my oxygen trying to find it. I started walking.

The silence of space is markedly different than the silence of a dead mining facility. It's still a cold, impersonal silence, but there's a beauty to it, too, and not nearly as much menace. I hadn't been aware of the great extent to which the silence in the facility had unnerved me until that spacewalk. Looking out over the walkway, I saw the Peragus star, and the stars of so many other systems. I suppose you get a similar feeling when you look at the galaxy, Aithne. You and I, we've been all over, and destroyed more than our fair share of space. But when you see the sheer number of them, you know that for all the impact we've had, there's so much we still haven't even touched. So much _life_. Before, during my exile, I'd felt completely isolated from it all. Looking at the stars was the loneliest thing I could do. But just then, with the faint background of the Force once again ringing in my ears, I fancied I could hear the stars singing again. I could feel the vibrations that were the rotations of the Peragian system. And I didn't feel lonely at all.

Just then, I heard a hiss. A great jet of yellow and purple steam turned on right in front of me. Even in the cold of space, I could feel the sudden heat. It was the fuel vents. I considered rapidly. Even in the spacesuit, the heat of the fuel stream could hurt me quite badly. But if I jumped, if I ran, the cold of space might protect me just long enough to get through the vent.

I pumped my legs and leaped, bouncing off the walkway. There was a millisecond of searing pain, but then I was through, and unharmed. I bounced once, twice more, carried on by the momentum of my movement. But then I fanned my arms, crouched, and managed to stop. I looked to the left, breathing a sigh of relief that I hadn't bounced off the walkway and into empty space. I looked right, then.

I mentioned that the walkway ramped up, Aithne. It plateaued right beside the observation window on the administration level. I could see the terminal. I could see Atton Rand hunched over it, feverishly pressing buttons. He saw something on his display then, and gave a great laugh.

Inside my spacesuit, the com-link buzzed, and I grinned, incredulous, realizing that Atton must have been trying to reach me this entire time. I was grateful for the overlarge spacesuit, then. I was able, if only just, to slip the com-link off my wrist and come in. I could hear Atton clearly.

"It's about time. I lost your signal after you left the mining tunnels," he said. "Now you're coming in clear…except I'm picking you up on the exterior of the facility, on the asteroid's surface. That can't be right."

I laughed. Speaking up in the hope Atton would hear me through the suit, I answered. "Look up and smile, Atton."

Incredibly, he did hear me. He looked up, and inexplicably happy, I waved my arms around in the spacesuit. Atton saw me. For a moment, he gaped like a fish.

"Huh? What are you doing out there?"

I started to shrug, but then reflected that I might bounce off the walkway if I tried it. "The hangar's cut off from the fuel depot by a containment field," I explained. "I need the administration officer's override codes, and he, or his body, is in the dormitory. But the regular door's been destroyed, so I'm taking a spacewalk."

Atton regarded me with a strange expression through the observation window. "You're crazy," he said flatly. "Even for a Jedi. Look, you need to get out of there…quick."

"What do you mean?"

"What little is left of the facility's venting systems have gone active," he told me. "Most likely from the explosions in the mining tunnels. They're venting Peragus fuel deposits into space through the exterior vents—right in your path."

I looked behind me, confused. I thought I'd gotten through the vent. But when I looked up ahead, as the ramp sloped down again toward the dormitory, I realized there was another. "Yeah—can you shut those down?" I asked him.

"I can't," Atton said apologetically. "I'm locked out of the main systems here." He hit the top of the terminal. "I couldn't shut it down if I tried. The vents look like they've been purposely rerouted to vent the gases to the exterior, and only in the last few minutes. It's almost as if…"

"The facility saboteur knows I'm out here and wants to kill me especially?" I finished for him. Atton, behind the observation window, went very still.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Dammit," I muttered. "Mining laser or not, I should've tried to take him out in maintenance. There's a droid, Atton," I tried to explain. "I'm not following his plan of—"A shadow eclipsed the Peragian sun then, and I broke off. "What's that?"

At the back of my mind and across the silent link with her, I suddenly felt Kreia tense, and a great menace overshadowed my own feelings.

"Oh, what now?!" Atton burst out. "I don't believe this—there's a ship coming in, sending a docking code."

"Not just any ship," I said, as the ship came around and the Peragus exterior lighting illuminated a Republic cruiser. "That's the _Harbinger_. I was on that ship before I woke up and found I'd arrived at Peragus on the _Ebon Hawk_. But the droid said it had died…"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Atton said quietly.

There was a beep, and I looked down at the oxygen gauge on my suit. Forty-two percent, and falling. "Me, too," I replied to Atton. "And meanwhile, my oxygen's running out." I squeezed the com-link in my hand, gave Atton a wave, and moved. The fuel line above extended from Peragus to the _Harbinger_ as I jumped through the final jet of fuel and headed for the dormitories, toward an escape that somehow, now seemed much more urgent.

* * *

_ "So a third party," Aithne said flatly. "Or a fourth, if you count the Republic. That HK-50 droid crippled the _Harbinger'_s systems and drugged you to the gills, but Kreia rescued you. But someone that wasn't Republic got on board the _Harbinger_ and rebooted everything, or it wouldn't have and couldn't have fired on the _Ebon Hawk _and followed you to Peragus. Is that about the size of it?"_

_ "Just about."_

_ "This is where the Sith come in, isn't it?" Aithne asked. _

_ "Yeah. This is where the Sith come in. Not that I knew that at the time. I just knew I wouldn't like whoever had taken over the _Harbinger_. So I went into the dormitory, looking for survivors, and the administrator's containment field deactivation codes…"_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading the chapter. Take a moment to review and tell me what you thought, hey? I will be awesomely grateful.**

**Coming 4/24: Darden tells Aithne about her encounter with the Sith on the **_**Harbinger**_**, and Aithne Morrigan expresses particular interest in the Republic records Darden found onboard. **

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	5. IV

**Disclaimer: Credit to Obsidian and Lucasfilm.**

* * *

IV.

Hunted

_"It was a relief to take off that damn spacesuit when I finally made it inside the airlock of the dormitory. Because it was so big for me, I'd had to pump my legs hard to keep it moving, and the cold had gotten into the empty places in it. Anyway, I took off the thing, and looked around. The alarm I'd been hearing ever since first waking up in the med bay hours ago was much louder here. I guessed the dormitories was it source._

I stretched, and pressed the place on my back where the spacesuit had dug into my spine like the bony head of a ronto. Then I pulled my mining laser out of my waistband, rolled my neck, and opened the inner airlock door. The com-link had gone dead again, so I could only hope Atton and Kreia could cope with whatever was happening upstairs.

There were three corpses in the entryway. By now I could easily identify the work of the mining droids. I'd dared to hope that maybe the droids hadn't made it this far back—that all I would have to cope with was the gasses the HK-50 unit had mentioned, but obviously my hopes had been in vain. There was a datapad on one of the bodies that let me know that the rogue droids had activated fire suppressant turrets down here and turned them on organics, too. The turrets had stopped some of the miners from finding refuge in the dormitories. They would stop me from getting to the administration officer, too, if they were still active, unless I could sneak by them or find some way of shielding myself until I could disable them.

There was a storage room off to the left thankfully devoid of both turrets and droids, and there was a workbench and several barrels of component and equipment still intact in there. Using the components in the room, I was able to modify my mining laser into something more like a crude ion blaster, with a little extra range. I did some adjustment to the uniform with the tools in the workroom, too, so that it fitted me a little better and offered more protection. Clothes that offer impediment are actually worse than no armor at all. All in all the modifications took me about twenty minutes, but like I said—repair and weaponry construction are things I learned rather well in my exile years, and in the end, I was pretty confident the time would be well-spent.

Better armed and armored, and shielded against the subzero attacks of the fire suppressants with an environment shield I'd found in one of the equipment barrels, I met relatively little resistance as I made my way through the dormitory level. The place was divided up into more rooms than the administrative and fuel depot levels, so there was more cover when droids attacked. I disabled the droids and turrets easily enough, and found the dormitory terminal right away. From there, I was able to end the dormitory lockdown, as well as shut off the ventilation systems that were still venting toxins to the dorm rooms themselves. All that done, I actually hesitated a moment before activating the comm in the dorms. I didn't really want to know what I might not hear.

But in the end, there was nothing for it. "Hello?" I said. "Hello? Come in. This is Darden Leona. Can anyone respond? Repeat: This is Darden Leona, offering assistance out of here. The droids are disabled; the lockdown is over. Can anyone respond? Come in."

Only silence crackled over the comm, and I'd heard the same silence too much in the last few hours not to recognize it. It was the silence of the dead. Desperately, I stretched out with the Force—clumsily—I was still so unused to it. I listened, but all I could hear were the echoes of dying men and women. There might have been someone to answer yesterday. But there was no one today. I really was alone in the facility with Atton Rand and Kreia, and whoever had just docked on the _Harbinger_. And a murderous HK-50 droid saboteur that wanted to sell me to the Exchange.

Still, I supposed there might be facts to be gathered here. Or supplies. That workroom off the entrance to the level had been the biggest repository of equipment I had found since waking up. The map n the console indicated that the mess was on this level. There might be uncontaminated food there that Kreia, Atton, and I would need to survive, in or out of the facility. And past the mess was another turbolift that could get me directly to the administration level without the necessity of taking another spacewalk back to the fuel depot.

Figuring that it'd be useless to pick up food from the mess and burden myself until I absolutely had to, I headed to the dormitory to look for the administration officer's corpse and any codes he might have on him. The minute I stepped in there, I felt like hurling. The corpses littered the ground like leaves in the autumn, Aithne. There had to be twenty, thirty people down there that had died like rats in a trap. They lay on the ground, unmarked by droids, but with wide-eyes and horrible, simian grimaces that reflected the toxin that had killed them. Not one of them had bothered to carry in a breath mask from the storage room. They had thought they would be safe, locked in here.

I picked my way across the floor. Seeing all of them there, Aithne—it brought back memories. Except the people in those memories weren't gassed—they were shot. Or blown to bits, exploded into atoms before they'd known what had hit them. Aithne—it's been years, and I can still see Malachor. And I can see it more clearly than ever now. The memory there in the dormitory slowed me down a moment, but in a bit, I regained my composure, and continued on.

I recognized a few of the bodies from holo-logs I'd seen upstairs. The medical officer. The docking officer. And the administration officer. Surprisingly, none of them had stopped keeping logs when they came down here. On the bodies of the docking officer and the administration officer, I found a holo-log recording each. It was the first transportable evidence I had of what had happened here, so I took them and put them in my bag. I figured that if someone asked, I needed the alibi the logs would provide to prove I had nothing to do with the massive catastrophe that had taken place here.

There was a third holo-log at the bottom of one of the refreshers. I fished it out and washed my hands, and added it to the others. At the entrance to the dormitories, there was a holo-log reader. I started plugging in the logs, sure one of them would tell me the containment field override codes.

Aithne, I listened to the officer recordings for ten minutes, but not one of them had the code in it. I ran the logs again, went back to the corpse of the administration officer and searched him again, but there was nothing. There was no way I could shut down the fields.

For a minute, I thought that I actually was trapped, that my lifelong mantra had failed me and that there would be no other way out. Then I remembered what I'd found out in the fuel depot—how I could bypass the containment fields by going through the fuel line, and retrieve the T3 unit besides. Now a ship had docked, accessing the fuel line was actually feasible. Shuffling through the holo-logs, I grabbed the one from the docking officer. I'd only been listening to the logs for containment field overrides the first time, but I remembered how the docking officer's log had mentioned another code: the code to unlock the turbolift to administration. I had to go back there to access the fuel line.

I plugged in the docking officer's log one more time, and the administration officer's after that, which had more information. By combining the logs, I could guess the code to end the level lockdown and get back upstairs. For good measure, then, I plugged in that third log. The one I'd gotten from the fresher.

The fresher log had belonged to the late foreman—the only corpse down here that hadn't died of toxic gases. The foreman had been murdered by Coorta when he'd threatened to expose Coorta's plan to kidnap me and sell her to the Exchange. It was explicitly mentioned that there'd been conflict over what to do with me, and that I'd been out of it the whole time, and it was the best piece of evidence I'd gathered so far for my innocence of what had happened there. I shoved the logs back in my pack, and set out toward the mess and the turbolift.

Though the administration officer's log had said there were enough supplies in the mess to get the miners through a month, obviously I couldn't fit all that in my little medical pack, especially considering all the mining equipment, the plasma torch, the extra mining laser, the three holo-logs, and the few hundred credits already crammed in there. So when I got to the mess pantry and looked at the stores of food on the shelves—enough to get myself, Atton, and Kreia almost anywhere else in the galaxy we wanted to go, provided we could find a ship—I ended up dumping stuff. Specifically, I decided to dump the plasma torch and the safety harness. Then I jammed in as much food as I could carry, which didn't turn out to be much. Three water flasks—the flat kind that packs easily and bends around other stuff. Three medium sized bags of dried fruit, and as much dried meat as I could fit in with the rest. I could barely pull the drawstring tight around the top of the pack and snap the flap back over it, and looking over the still-mostly full pantry shelves, I reflected that now our travel options were much more restricted. But there was nothing for it, so I swung my pack back over my shoulder, and headed for the turbolift.

There were four other corpses in the turbolift room—Coorta and his cronies. I'd thought I might find him down here. The foreman's log proved that he'd had a plan to kidnap me and escape, and thus hadn't been trapped with the others in the dormitories, but he'd been targeted by HK-50 even more than the others due to his intentions. The people in the dormitories had incorrectly assumed Coorta had been behind all the sabotage, but scavenging the corpses, I found a holo-log that seemed to indicate Coorta's collaboration with Reddic Carlisle to work around station security, kidnap her, and hightail it with his friends to Nar Shaddaa to collect on the Exchange bounty. That is, the voice on the holo-log was Reddic Carlisle's. Closer inspection of records contained in the terminal next to the turbolift, however, revealed that the HK-50 droid had posed as Reddic Carlisle to draw Coorta and his friends out into a trap. I downloaded the terminal log into some extra space on the dock officer's holo-log. It was positive evidence the facility had been sabotaged by the HK-50 droid.

The terminal log also explained that the HK-50 droid had reversed the code the dock officer and administration officer had locked the turbolift with. When I entered the code in reverse into the terminal, the alarm stopped blaring, and the turbolift opened.

I looked around at the dormitory level as I left. It all seemed so stupid and tragic. I knew that if I'd never come to the mining facility, none of the deaths here would have occurred. But I also knew that I hadn't originated the bounty, or acted to collect it. I hadn't perpetrated any of the deaths here, so though I had been victim and catalyst, I didn't have to feel any guilt for Coorta and HK-50's destruction. I reflected that I would save my guilt for the deaths and atrocities I'd actually perpetrated, and decided I wouldn't waste tears over someone else's bloodbath. But despite this decision, the whole thing still left a sour taste in my mouth.

I got on the turbolift and activated the machine. The doors shut.

When they opened again on the administration level, I found Kreia waiting for me. She'd left the morgue, and now seemed much sturdier on her feet.

"I have felt a disturbance," Kreia announced. "Our enemy is here. "We must leave at once."

I knew she was talking about whoever had landed on the _Harbinger_, but I didn't know who that might be. Kreia seemed to, however, so I asked her, "Who are you talking about, Kreia? Which enemy?"

"The one that fired upon the _Ebon Hawk_ as we attempted to rescue you," Kreia told me, repeating only what I had already guessed for myself. "And he will not let us go without blood being shed."

Though Kreia obviously knew the identity of the enemy to whom she referred, she equally obviously was unwilling to share this possibly vital information. Her reticence made me angry, just like it had before in the morgue. I glared at the old woman. "He. You're being very cryptic. What's going on? Who's after us?"

Kreia's hood shifted as her head turned. "The story is a long one, and time is short," she said hurriedly. "Come—we must go, and quickly."

* * *

_"This is weird," Aithne remarked. "I get the distinct feeling that whatever 'enemy' your 'Kreia's' talking about is after _her_, not you." _

_ Darden considered this for a moment. She leaned back, folded her arms, and tapped her fingers thoughtfully. "You know, the Sith might have been after Kreia, at first," she said then, sounding a little surprised. "I mean, eventually they would have got ahold of the leaked information and come for me, but she may have catalyzed it. I never did find out exactly what happened right before the whole _Ebon Hawk-Harbinger_ kerfuffle that started the mess in the first place, but the Sith had been firing on the _Ebon Hawk_ before it ever got to the _Harbinger_, and they did have it out for Kreia. Running into me might have been an accident. Huh."_

_ Aithne raised an eyebrow. "What'd Kreia do to tick off the Sith?"_

_ "I never figured _that_ out, either," Darden admitted. "I know bits and pieces. I can only guess that she was a little too true to you—or to who she thought you were, or should've been." _

_ "I don't like the sound of that," Aithne said. After a moment, she said, "You didn't trust her even then, did you?"_

_ "No," Darden replied. "She was a bit too incommunicado—like a Jedi Master, but much, much colder. I couldn't figure why she'd rescued me from the _Harbinger_ in the first place, or how she'd even known to look, and I didn't know what she'd done to reconnect me to the Force, or why." _

_ "I don't think I'd have trusted her, either," Aithne reflected. "Well, go on."_

* * *

Despite my frustration with Kreia's elusiveness, I realized that it probably wasn't the best idea to challenge her quite yet. I didn't want a fight on more than one front. No matter who had regained control of the _Harbinger_ after HK-50 had sabotaged it, their actions had demonstrated they were no friend of mine. It was imperative that I escape from the Harbinger, and escape from Peragus II and HK-50. For the moment, at least, Kreia shared these objectives. So right then, Kreia was an ally, and her cryptic non-answers and ambiguous motivations were problems for later. So I caved to Kreia's insistence on departure.

"Fine," I said. "There's nothing for us here. Everyone is dead, and you're right. It's time to go."

Kreia took the lead. "We need to make our way to the docking area on this level," she explained. "I fear the airlock has already opened, and if so, we must be on our guard. If we cannot reach the E_bon Hawk_, then we must find a way to escape on the ship that has docked here."

"The _only_ way to reach the _Ebon Hawk_ is by boarding the ship that's docked here," I retorted. "I've ended lockdown on every level—we could probably get to the fuel depot from here, but there are still containment fields that cut the depot off from the hangar, and the only way to bypass them is through the fuel lines."

I realized Kreia wasn't listening. She fidgeted with a vibrosword, and kept looking over her shoulder. I didn't know where or when she'd found the sword, but I didn't ask. The old woman was setting a fierce pace for the state she'd been in earlier. It wasn't long before we'd arrived at the administration terminal.

Atton was still there. He was shifting from foot to foot, looking around every few seconds as if he were desperate to do something but didn't quite know what to do. When he saw Kreia and me, for a moment he looked relieved, and then he looked annoyed.

"What in space is going on?" he demanded. "Who's this? Another Jedi? What, did you guys suddenly start breeding when I wasn't looking?"

The question diverted me for a moment. "How?" I asked him, irritated by his hostility. "Asexually, through the Force? Haven't managed that one yet. Probably won't, seeing as I'm _not_ a Jedi. This is Kreia. Kreia, this is Atton Rand."

Kreia was still fidgeting. I looked at her, starting to worry, and when I saw Atton was opening his mouth to argue the Jedi-thing, I held up a hand to tell him to be quiet. "Look, there's no time. Just—"I dug through the pack and pulled out the extra mining laser I _hadn't_ confiscated back in the mess pantry. I handed it to Atton. "Come on. We're leaving."

"Uh…all right," Atton said, transitioning pretty smoothly, considering. "I'm guessing that Republic ship that docked isn't carrying friends of yours."

"I hope your talent for understatement is offset by your skill with a blaster," Kreia said, suddenly sharp, "If not, then I fear our time together will be short indeed."

Her sudden hostility took me aback, and Atton raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and I'm also good at running and drinking, Your Majesty," he said, a little more harshly than he needed to. Then he looked at me. "D'you find a way to disable those containment fields?"

"No."

"Then that warship's the only way off this station," Atton said grimly. "Good thing we have a clear run to the—"

There was a clanking noise behind us, and we turned, to see that Atton had spoken too soon. HK-50 had left the fuel depot, and now, he clutched a blaster rifle in his durasteel fingers. I looked at Atton, trying to communicate that this was the saboteur I had tried to tell him about before. Atton met my gaze in understanding, but he still looked angry and afraid.

"Threat:" the HK-unit threatened, "Master, perhaps I did not enunciate clearly the last time we spoke. I suggested that you should shut down, stay put, and wait for rescue."

I laughed. "Yeah. _That _was going to happen. Actually, droid, I think you were clearer than you meant to be. Let _me_ be clear _now_: I don't listen to the 'suggestions' of mass-murdering assassin droids."

HK-50's gears whirred. "Clarification:" he said after he had processed this. "Assassin droid is such a crude term, Master, reserved for durasteel drones uploaded with only the most archaic kill-programs. The function I perform has been referred to as 'wanton slaughter'. I prefer to see it as a means of facilitating communication, resulting in the termi—"

"The termination of hostilities," I finished for him. "Yeah. I get it. Actually, I think 'wanton slaughter' is a pretty accurate descriptor. Or genocide." For Atton and Kreia's benefit, I added, "Everything that's happened on this station was down to our friend here. Even the miners murdered in the med bay, I think."

"Indignant Answer: Master, the miners intended to place you in jeopardy," HK-50 said in wounded tones. "I could not allow that to take place, so I was forced to negotiate a termination of hostilities. After reprogramming the mining droids to 'mine' any organics they perceived, they began to kill the miners one by one. Then a series of flawlessly timed explosions drove the miners into their dormitories—where I was able to gas them all at once without wasting time hunting them through the mining tunnels. I then administered a large dose of sedative to the remaining miners in the med bay, enough to kill them but ensure you slept peacefully. Of course, against my calculations, you awakened from your tank prematurely. I am ashamed by the inconvenience that caused both of us."

Atton, beside me, looked about as sick as I had felt when I'd guessed what had happened. Kreia was impassive. I found myself this second time, however, getting angry. "Spare me such consideration," I spat. "Those droids tried to kill me, too. That would've spoiled your bounty, all right."

"Answer:" the droid said, "You misunderstand me, Master. The droids were there to guard you. As I said, I did not anticipate you awakening from the tank. You are quite a hardy specimen for a Jedi, a ronto among humans, if you will indulge me the metaphor. Besides, as you proved, Master, such droids could never pose a threat to a Jedi…the droids were custodial in nature, cleaning the facility of other distractions."

I wanted to ask HK-50 who'd hired him, and what possible temptation a droid could have to go bounty hunting. But Kreia was still shifting nervously. Her agitation was leaking over into my head. And truthfully, I was sick of hearing the tin can talk.

"'Distractions,'" I muttered at last. "A hundred people or more, and they were 'distractions'. Force you are a piece of work. I'm not your bounty, droid. I'm leaving now, and if I have to go through you to do it, so be it."

Resignation:" said HK-50 gleefully. "Very well, Master. If inflicting pain is the only means to resolve this matter, then you leave me no choice."

He lowered his blaster rifle, and I ducked, rolled, and came up firing with my mining laser, grateful I had modified it to be especially harmful to droids. To my surprise, though, the second I opened fire on HK-50, Atton had done the same. I'd figured the droid might have left at least Atton alone if he got me. HK-50 was still pretty steamed at Kreia. But Atton wasn't a rival, like the miners had been. He didn't want to capture me, and I'd thought the Exchange contacts might take him on when the Exchange left here, if things went down that way. Atton would get away just the same. But by firing with me, Atton was definitively siding with me, and making himself a target for the droid.

HK-50's armor was well-put together. I dodged and ducked blaster bolts, firing all the time. Kreia reached out her hand, and I felt energy flow from it, seeking to overload the assassin's receptors. HK-50 dodged and turned his rifle on Kreia, but the distraction had allowed me to get behind him. I fired my laser right into his motivational core at the base of his neck. Sparks flew out, and the droid's head bowed. The arms relaxed, and his blaster rifle fell to the ground. I knelt and picked it up. "Anybody want this?" I asked. It was undeniably a better weapon than the mining lasers Atton and I carried, if a bit too big and clumsy to be of much use to me.

Kreia didn't answer, and Atton shook his head. "Check his core," he advised. "Might find out who sent that mouthy psychopath. Some clue."

I was already opening the chassis up. "I'm pretty sure the Exchange sent him," I told Atton, as I rummaged through HK-50's inner workings. "Don't know how, though. He didn't act like your run-of-the-mill droid. Too independent. Didn't take orders. He took too much initiative, and he talked about a bounty. What pay could you offer a droid?"

There wasn't anything inside the droid that hinted at where the unit had come from, so I grabbed a random parts out—custom parts that were clearly from this droid, and not any other. I could head down to the black market of the next planet I hit and ask about the series.

But when I moved to place the parts in my pack, I realized there was no room left. Atton sighed. "Toss 'em here," he said. He held up a pack of his own, explaining. "Got it off a corpse up here while I was waiting around wondering if you'd been shot up by crazy droids yet."

I handed him the parts. "Thanks."

"We must hurry," Kreia insisted. "There is no time to waste."

"Yeah, sure," I told her. "Let's go." This time, I took the lead toward the docking port. No one stopped us. Nothing happened. We crossed over into the _Harbinger_ with no problems. The second my foot hit the ship, though, I paused, and listened. I heard nothing. Silence, everywhere. The exact same echoing, empty silence we had just left on the mining station. The silence of the dead, but with an added dimension of menace, of something waiting for me, watching me, just out of sight.

Kreia spoke my thoughts aloud. "Something is wrong. I sense no one on board."

Atton, who had been incredibly tense since the HK-50 attack, burst out angrily. "'You sense no one on board?'" he repeated scornfully. "Sense any assassin droids creeping up on us like last time?"

Kreia's hood turned to Atton, then away, in a complete and utter dismissal of the man. I could feel her contempt of him bleeding over the link into my head. "Everyone here has been slain," Kreia told me. "Yet there are few signs of battle, no carbon scoring, no blaster fire. This place has been hit by assassins of a different sort."

"Then what are we doing on this ship?" Atton demanded. "We were better off in the facility! You two are supposed to be Jedi? You two are the worst Jedi I've ever met!"

Again I was forcibly reminded of some of the soldiers I'd had under my command during the Mandalorian Wars, before a battle, and before they had confidence in me, when I informed them of a risky plan of action, and they were afraid. So I was able to keep my temper, and I didn't snap at him for the fourth time that I wasn't a Jedi, didn't point out that I knew as little as he did about happenings on this ship. "Calm down," I told him instead. "Panic and accusations don't solve anything, Atton. We need a plan."

"If what you have told me is correct, then we cannot reach the hangar by going back through the facility," Kreia pointed out. "Be silent, I need to think."

Her imperious manner irked me in a way Atton's fearful, angry accusations had not. "I will not be silent," I retorted. "I _have_ a plan, okay? We can bypass the force field to the hangar by getting to the engine room on this ship, then exiting through the fuel pipe."

Atton snorted. "Yeah. Crawling through the fuel pipe. Assuming we can shut down the actual fuel, avoid the fumes—you know, just discounting for a moment how _crazy_ that is, even if you got to the ship you came in on, it wouldn't matter. You'll need the orbital drift charts to clear the Peragus asteroid field, unless you want to have the shortest flight out of Peragus ever recorded."

It wasn't the tone so much as that he was right, and I'd overlooked something crucial again, that made me snap back at him. "Well if you have an idea, be my guest!"

"The two of you—be silent!" Kreia ordered.

I rounded on her. "I am doing my _best_ here, Kreia," I hissed. Then calming, I turned back to Atton Rand. "You're right, though. No one's going anywhere without those drift charts."

Atton's posture relaxed a very little. Sometimes, all it takes to diffuse conflict is for someone to give just a little. "Look," he said. "This ship—they probably have the latest asteroid drift charts in their navicomputer. They'd have to."

Now he was working with me again, I felt a little better. "So we focus on one problem at a time, right?" I asked both Kreia and Atton. "We get the departure codes. Otherwise getting to the hangar means nothing."

Kreia had started listening again, and I felt less annoyance from her just as the anger was dissipating from Atton's face and posture.

"Well, we could get the codes on the bridge," Atton suggested. "I mean…well…that's the biggest problem I can see."

"That is a sound plan, for the moment," Kreia agreed. "But our enemies gather while we wait here."

Though Kreia plainly could, I could not sense these enemies and didn't know what she was talking about. But I could sense Kreia's anxiety, mounting by the second. So I started walking again. "Wherever they are. Okay. This way to the bridge. I was on this ship, for a while. We'll grab the drift charts like Atton suggested and hightail it out of here for Kreia. Everybody happy?"

Atton shook his head. I noticed that though he had lost his anger over the HK-50 attack, he now seemed to be getting nervous, too. "This won't end well," he predicted. "Trust me."

Personally, I wished the invisible enemies would appear and the uncomfortable feelings would manifest into tangible and combatable realities. All I could see was corpses, but tensions were mounting and I still had that feeling we were being watched. The _Harbinger_ had to have someone alive onboard in order to have docked. I didn't mention this to either of my companions, however, not wanting to add to Kreia's nerves or Atton's fear.

Every now and then, Atton would stop by a locker or a corpse to grab something for his mostly empty pack. Some credits. Some food. He found a couple of Republic-issue blasters the two of us were able to exchange our mining lasers for, and a vibrosword better than Kreia's weapon. Despite Kreia's continual mandates to hurry, I didn't try to stop Atton. Whether or not her 'enemy' manifested himself, I knew we'd need all the supplies we could find.

However, just before we got to the bridge, Kreia's fears were confirmed.

They came out of nowhere, Aithne. One minute, I could have sworn we were alone on a ghost ship. Then, four people, hooded and masked, had materialized around us. Stealth technology like I'd never seen before, _and_ I hadn't felt them through the Force. They all carried double-bladed swords, old fashioned without the telltale hum of a vibro-weapon, and they attacked without a word or cry.

Only years of living out here saved me from the first swipe. I ducked, and kicked out, knocking the first man's feet out from under him. He went down with a grunt and I shot him twice—once through the head and once through the heart, before whirling, and shooting one of two men that had ganged up on Kreia. Another one was coming up behind me, and I punched him in the throat with my free hand, as Atton shot him in the back, and Kreia ran her other assailant through.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring down at the four bodies that had materialized from nowhere. Then I knelt. They all had ornaments hung around their necks, tiny medallions upon which were graven the symbol of Korriban. Now I'd never fought the Sith in the Jedi Civil War, but I'd run into a few escaped ones out on the Rim afterward, and I recognized what the symbol meant.

"Sith," I told the others. Kreia's expression did not change, nor did the emotions I could feel emanating from her in the back of my mind. Atton, however, paled, and his lips went tight. Both reactions, I felt, had their own significance. Kreia had known it was Sith after me, and Atton had familiarity with and fear of the Sith.

"Let us hurry," Kreia said.

"Yeah," I agreed, standing. "Everyone alright?"

"Fine," Atton said. "Let's just get out of here."

The corpses were thicker on the bridge, all dressed in Republic orange and bearing what I now knew to be Sith sword wounds. I picked my way through them to the navicomputer. Rooting about in my bag, I considered how best to retrieve the orbital drift charts, and finally decided to upload it over the datapad I had that Reddic Carlisle had recorded the information about his sonic sensor on, and took it out. Downloading the information was the work of a moment, and I placed the datapad back into my pack. Then, because I wanted to know, I accessed the logs.

The holo-log of Captain Reinald appeared over the display. Over to my right was his corpse, and I frowned. Captain Reinald had been a decent enough sort. The record explained that the Harbinger had received a distress signal from the _Ebon Hawk_ a few days ago, reporting that it had been attacked by a Sith warship. Reinald had cleared with command, and gone to the _Ebon Hawk_'s aid. They'd boarded both vessels that had been involved in the battle. There had been no one alive on the freighter, and only one man on the Sith warship—one so badly injured they'd thought him dead, and taken him to the med bay for examination. But the last log indicated that right after the _Harbinger_ had taken this man on board, things had begun to go wrong, and not only with the ship's systems. The log ended with a transmission from the med bay. A scream, and then a deep, broken, gravelly, dead voice that spoke the single sentence, "I have come for the Jedi."

The voice made my blood run cold, and I looked to Kreia, certain that the voice that spoke was the enemy, the 'he' to whom she had referred. Kreia regarded me from beneath her hood, but said nothing. Atton, however, whistled lowly. "You've been in trouble for a few days, haven't you, Leona?"

"Apparently so," I said. "Let's go."

I led Atton and Kreia out the other side of the bridge, toward where I thought the engine room might be. They followed without comment. Just outside the bridge, my stomach clenched. Looking off to the left on instinct, I caught a shimmer in the air. "Sith!"

The assassins materialized, but this time we were ready for them. With a split-second's warning, the assassins suddenly seemed to be much less of a challenge. The droids back in the mining facility had been a little harder to take down, I reflected. For some reason, something about this unexpected weakness struck me as suspicious. Unorganized ex-Sith out on the Rim had been much tougher to beat, if not nearly so hard to spot. "Let's keep moving," I said.

We moved through the bowels of the _Harbinger_ until I saw the communications console in the conference room, and paused. I knew the console might contain records of Captain Reinald's discussion with Republic command, and there was still much about what had happened on the _Harbinger_ I didn't understand. So I accessed the records, and though Kreia fidgeted and Atton looked over his shoulder, they didn't complain. I guess they figured I had a right to determine what had happened in my recent past.

The logs in the communications console revealed, among other things, that I had diplomatic level priority, and that the HK-50 unit had been telling the truth when he'd told me that he had served Reinald as a protocol droid. He'd been sent to check on her shortly after the last transmission, the one where Reinald had been cleared to aid the _Ebon Hawk_ in its battle with the ghost Sith warship. Considering what had happened, it was evident that HK-50 had not followed these orders. I gathered that as I had never seen the droid before our interaction on Peragus, he had not actually known of my existence until Reinald had informed him of it, and that his scheme to incapacitate and abduct me had originated from that point.

But though this was illuminating, something else about the transmissions recorded nagged at the back of my brain, and I stood there after the last one had gone off, tapping a finger on the top of the console.

"What is it?" Atton wanted to know. "The transmission's over."

"I think I really must be the last one," I told him. "The Republic—they think I'm the only Jedi left out there. The only one they can get, anyway. That's why they were so desperate to get me back to the Republic." I couldn't help but laugh then, a little cynically. "The Republic's leaned on Jedi so long, and they're so weak right now…but if I'm the best they can get, they really are in bad shape."

"That's true," Atton agreed flatly. "But shouldn't we be going? Or was there something else?""

I tried not to feel hurt by Atton Rand's easy acquiescence to my poor self-evaluation, and moved toward the door again. "Yeah," I told him. "That officer from Republic Command. Reinald's boss Admiral Onasi. I feel like I should know him. He's familiar, somehow. Like I've heard his name before, or seen him somewhere."

"You really have been out of it for a long time, haven't you?" Atton laughed. He paused then, looking straight ahead. "Sith!" he shouted then.

I ducked a blade and fired. The next two minutes we fought the masked assassins, but when the firefight was over, Atton continued as if they'd never been interrupted. "Admiral Carth Onasi. Got promoted after the Jedi Civil War. Cross of Glory and a whole lot of other medals for stupidi—for valor and stuff. He was the pilot that they say flew Revan in to kill Malak in the final battle."

I snapped my fingers, suddenly remembering where I'd heard the name before. "That's it! With that old man—Juddy Bindle or something—"

"Jolee Bindo," Kreia snapped irritably. "Yes, he was an interesting one."

"I met him out on the Rim a couple years back," I told both of them. "I told you, Atton—it was the best news I'd had of Republic space for years. Jolee Bindo was with his Padawan, or something, this kid—he'd known Revan, too—Onasi!" I cried. "That was it! The kid was related to the Admiral, somehow. That's how I remembered him, but there was more. That _ship_. The _Ebon Hawk_. The Admiral was pretty anxious to get it, don't you think? There was something important about that ship you want us to escape on, Kreia," I said.

Atton looked interested. "Where'd it come from, anyway?" he asked Kreia. "The Unknown Regions? Why would the Republic want it? How would they even know about it?"

"We waste time with idle questions," Kreia snapped. "Your foolish prattle draws our enemies to us. Be silent, and let us move faster."

Though we'd been walking ever since the Sith attack, I knew Kreia had a point about the noise. So I filed the questions about the _Ebon Hawk_ under a growing list of things to investigate later.

We stopped again when we came out of the office section of the ship—into the barracks section. This was the last place I could remember being, after Peragus, and if no-one had stolen it, my stuff would be here.

"Are you all right?" Kreia asked as we came to a halt. It wasn't a real question. In the back of my mind I felt the old woman lurking, and I knew why we'd stopped.

"These were my quarters," I said, more for Atton's benefit than Kreia's.

"This was your room?" Atton wanted to know. "When?"

I laughed shortly, irritably. "Before that droid knocked me out, Kreia 'rescued' me off this ship, and I woke up on Peragus. If no-one's stolen it, all my gear should still be here."

"We do not have much time," Kreia said. "Whatever you intend to do, do it quickly."

I waved a hand in acknowledgment, and went inside my room. All my stuff was still in the footlocker in my quarters, untouched. My own clothes, specifically bought and intended to avoid attracting the attention of passersby. A few credits. A couple droid parts I'd been tinkering with to pass the time. But most importantly, my own pack, bigger and sturdier than the medical bag from the mining station, with all sorts of handy pockets. I grabbed all the stuff out of the footlocker and stuffed it into the big backpack, along with the medical bag itself. I could organize everything later. I turned, left, and rejoined the others. "Come on."

"Got everything, then, Leona?" Atton asked. "Blaster, clothes…underwear?"

Kreia sniffed. "Fool," but I was looking past both of them at a shimmer in the air.

"Weapons up!"

We were attacked twice more by parties of Sith before we got to the med bay, much closer to the engines of the ship. By now I was getting tired. I'd had little food and no natural sleep in three days—only the unrestful, drug-induced kind. The chrono on Atton's borrowed com-link I still wore indicated that I'd been exploring a dead mining station, fighting droids, exploring a dead ship, fighting Sith, and generally trying to figure out what the hell was going on for about eight hours straight. I needed a good square meal and about ten hours of natural sleep. But before I could see to all that, I needed a safe place to do so.

But despite the need for haste and food and sleep, when we got to the med bay I had to stop. Glass littered the floor from where a kolto tank had been broken. From the inside, Aithne. I mean, you've seen those things. Three centimeters thick, and concave from the inside. On the outside with a weapon, it's no big deal breaking into a kolto tank. But unarmed, to break out—it's frightening.

"Wow," was Atton's only remark. Kreia said nothing.

Unnerved, I went to the med bay console. There were records here that indicated that yes, three days ago I'd been administered a lethal dose of sedatives in this bay, just like I had been in the Peragus med bay—the HK line isn't the most original—but more importantly, there were camera records.

It turned out that the body the _Harbinger_ had retrieved from the phantom Sith ship had been brought here, and when he had been, the medics had discovered that he wasn't actually dead. They didn't know how he had survived. His skin was torn and cracked, scarred and re-scarred. His skeleton was fractured in innumerable places. The medical officer had left notes saying so, and one camera record showed him, in that kolto tank which had shattered. Atton whistled as we looked at it.

"Well. There's one guy that won't be winning Mr. Galaxy anytime soon," he cracked.

I laughed a little nervously. "Yeah, no kidding."

Kreia shifted. "Do not be an imbecile," she told Atton. "And do not underestimate this man. Watch the recording."

Atton and I watched as the broken man twitched in his tank. The kolto drained out of it, sensing his activity, his return to consciousness, but the man continued to float, hovering as if still suspended. Then the medical officer, passing in front of him, started to cower like a crouching animal. I saw her mouth open in a silent scream. The glass exploded outward, and the broken man jumped out of the tank. He looked at the fallen body of the medical officer. She had been pierced, slashed, cut into a dozen pieces by the broken glass, and lay quivering on the floor. He kicked her once, viciously. Then he straightened, and walked to the console. I knew it had been transmitting to the bridge, because I had heard the glass shattering and the medical officer screaming on the holo-log there. The camera record in the _Harbinger_ med bay transmitted no sound, but because I had listened to the holo-log on the bridge, when the patchwork man opened his cracked and bloodless lips to speak, I knew what he had said.

_I have come for the Jedi._

The recording ended. I let out a rattling, weak breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Let's go," I muttered.

Atton agreed, and the three of us left, heading toward the engine room. The lights were flickering in this part of the ship. I guessed that this was probably the area where the HK-50 droid had done the most damage with his sabotage.

Atton murmured to me as we entered the dimly lit corridor toward maintenance, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"What's wrong?"

"Don't you feel it?" he asked me. "Something's gonna get real wrong, real quick."

"Things have been real wrong all day," I said. "Unless it's more assassins—it'll be harder to spot them in the dark—is it more assassins?"

Atton looked around. He seemed to be listening for something, but I couldn't hear anything. "I don't know what it is," he said finally. "But you don't survive on the Rim as long as I have without knowing when trouble's coming."

Kreia glanced at Atton, expression unreadable. Thinking back over my own experiences on the Rim, I had to agree with him. "I suppose you don't. Or how to avoid it—we'll be as careful as we can be. But we have to keep moving. These Sith—there's no way of knowing how many snuck onto the _Harbinger_ off that Sith war ship."

"All right," Atton said reluctantly. "But don't say I didn't warn you. Trust me, when it comes to staying alive, I'm rarely wrong about these things."

"We're almost there, though." Despite the encouragement, Atton didn't look reassured. So, hesitantly, I reached up and patted his shoulder, like I would have done for a jumpy soldier under my command back in the day. Somehow, despite the way Atton had been reminding me of one of them, though, it didn't feel like it had then. It felt awkward, strange. Atton looked down at me sharply and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't comment, and we all kept moving.

By now, we'd arrived at the back of the _Harbinger_. I knew the layout of these types of ships. The engine room—and the fuel pipe—were no more than a hop, skip, and a jump away. I started to the left, heading for the fueling terminal and the maintenance terminal. But the lights flickered particularly strongly then, and to the right, I saw a silhouette, like a shadow. I whirled.

It was a man, unstealthed. The light flickered over his face, and I was just able to make out a corpse-white face crisscrossed and cracked with innumerable wounds and scars, but the scars weren't red, but gray, like there was no blood left in the man to spill. Yellow eyes glared at me out of the dark.

It was the commander of the Sith assassins, the one the _Harbinger_ had brought onboard from the Sith warship, along with all his stealthed friends. It was the man who had broken out of the kolto tank, the one who had said he was here for me. I knew he had to be a Sith Lord, he just had to be. And I knew that like the Republic, he thought I was the last of the Jedi.

Kreia gripped my shoulder suddenly with her left hand, before I could go to meet him. "This battle is mine alone," Kreia told me. "I am not defenseless. He cannot kill what he cannot see, and power has blinded him long ago." She squeezed my shoulder once, then let go, running forward to meet the Sith Lord with surprising speed. "Run!" she called back over her shoulder. "I will be along shortly." The door that separated the corridor that led to the lift back to the dorm and med bay level from the maintenance area shut, cutting Kreia and the Sith Lord off from me and Atton.

For a split second, all I could do was stare. But Aithne, I know a feint when I see one, and I know when to retreat. So I recovered quickly, "Come on, Atton."

The two of us ran for the engine room, stopping only to shut down the fueling of the _Harbinger_ and open the maintenance shaft that would give us access to the fuel pipe.

But when we stood before the entrance, Atton hesitated. "I'd hoped you were joking," he said. "We're seriously crossing back into the Peragus facility through the fuel line? This is crazy!"

"Look," I told him. "We get through the fuel line—we're basically in the facility hangar. Home free. Unless you want to go back by that Sith Lord and through who knows how many assassins and work something else out. Just—come on. Trust me."

Atton searched my face for a long moment. Then he nodded. "All right, but I know I'm going to regret this."

I was trying very hard to focus on escaping, and not on whatever might be happening to Kreia as she battled that Sith Lord. I led Atton into the fuel pipe, talking just to keep my mind off of it. "Back in the wars—I used to tell my soldiers: Sometimes the only way to survive, the only way to win, is to do something incredibly insane and catch the enemy completely off guard."

"Back then," Atton repeated. The fuel pipe was warm, and I started to sweat. I could smell the metallic smell of the fuel, like in the tunnels below the mining facility. I started walking faster. "You mean in the Mandalorian Wars," Atton said. "You had soldiers?"

"All the Jedi did," I answered, not really wanting to elaborate further. I hadn't really faced up to everything that had happened then, and for some reason, since Atton didn't recognize my name and know what I'd done in the Wars, I was especially reluctant to tell him. The pipe turned, and I called back over my shoulder. "Watch your head. The ceiling's low. The maintenance lamps aren't near strong enough to give an accurate idea of the dimensions in here."

Suddenly, red light flashed behind my eyes, and my left hand was engulfed with red-hot pain, like it'd been dipped in molten carbonite. I screamed, and collapsed on the floor of the pipe.

* * *

_ Aithne was pensive as she leaned against the wall. "This is getting interesting," she mused. "A Force bond so strong with Kreia that when she was wounded you got incapacitated, Sith assassins that don't seem that capable at assassination, not to mention your… interactions with this Atton Rand guy."_

_ "Interesting," Darden said. "That's one way of putting it."_

_ "Before—you mentioned…Admiral Onasi," Aithne hazarded. "He wanted the _Ebon Hawk_?" _

_ "Very much," Darden said, keeping her eyes fixed on the other woman's face. "His exact words were—'If there's any trace of that vessel, even wreckage, I want it.'" _

_ Aithne's eyes dropped, and color came into her cheeks. Her hands clenched at the fabric in her lap until her knuckles went white. She opened her mouth—almost asked a question. Then she didn't. "Please—go on," she whispered._

* * *

**A/N: Coming 4/28- Darden relates how she escaped from Peragus and began to adjust to people again. **

**R&R**

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	6. V

**Disclaimer: I do not own a Jedi robe or a lightsaber, much less this story. No, I haven't even got one of the toy ones. Some nerd I am.**

* * *

V.

Allies

_ "Nerve endings screamed. Spots danced before my eyes. The only problem was—though I could feel every bit of the agony—the nerve endings screaming weren't _mine.

Atton whirled, panicked. "Wh—what's wrong?" he demanded. "Are you alright?" Stooping, he swung an arm around my shoulders and half-picked me up. "Dammit, hold on! It's only a little further. Don't give up on me now!"

I bit my tongue, hard enough to that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and my _own_ pain filled my head. "No—"I murmured vaguely. "'m fine…it's…"

My knees shook like jelly, as Kreia's pain filled my head. I couldn't even speak to protest Atton half-dragging me as I frantically tried to remember how to cut off my consciousness from another Force-Sensitive. The wall I built was damn clumsy, Aithne, it was the first one I'd needed in years and there were all sorts of gaps. When I was done, my hand still tingled, by I could breathe, and I was able to stand on my own. I threw off Atton's arm, "I said I'm _fine_, Rand!"

Atton stopped. "Sithspit! You collapsed back there! What happened to you?"

"Kreia," I answered, looking back over my shoulder toward the _Harbinger_. "She's been wounded. Badly."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, okay?" I snapped at him, and started walking toward the mining facility again, massaging my hand.

Atton started walking again, too. "Look, if she's in pain, then that pain's buying us time we can't afford to waste," he said practically. "Especially if sleeps-with-vibroblades gets tired of playing with her and decides to use us for practice next."

His callousness was unnerving, but he did have a point. "Then we should walk faster," I told him, exercising control to keep my voice calm.

Atton looked at me doubtfully. "Will you—"

I cut him off. "I'm fine, Atton! Just—keep going."

In fact, I didn't know if I would be fine. It was as obvious to me as it is to you that I'd bonded with Kreia, even though the Force had only just now started ringing in my ears like a half-forgotten song. Equally obvious was the incredible strength of the bond. Through the cracks of my slipshod mental wall, I could feel that Kreia was still hurting, and hurting badly. I knew that if I took down the wall, I'd feel it just as much as she did, and if something worse happened to Kreia—I had a terrible presentiment that I would bear every blow she took right along with her. But telling Atton this wouldn't accomplish our objective, and judging by his reaction when I'd collapsed earlier, it might even impede his progress. So instead of sharing my fears, I only quickened the pace.

We all but ran along that dark, smelly, cramped fuel line, and soon we reached the door to the Peragus fuel depot. Right in front of the door was the metal case I had seen on the maintenance cameras, and T3-M4.

"It's a utility droid," Atton said, nonplussed. "Looks like it's been hit with an ion charge and dumped here."

"It's T3-M4," I told him. "He got us off the admin level, and that assassin droid wasn't too happy with him, I'll bet."

I knelt in front of the little astromech and tapped his casing. There was a sick, sleepy beeping, but then his sensors lit up. Gears whirred as he performed a diagnostic. His central processor twisted left, then right. His sensors located me in front of him, and he burst into an indignant astromech tirade.

I smiled. He'd be fine. "Yeah, we ran into the protocol droid earlier. He attacked us, too," I told him.

In a series of forlorn whistles and regretful chirps, Teethree expressed his regrets that he had not detected HK-50 earlier. Producing a hidden shock arm and a blaster for my inspection, he communicated his confidence that if he had disabled the intruder himself, my safety would not have been compromised and my companion and I would have been able to join him on this level in a much more efficient manner. I patted the little droid's casing.

"Don't blame yourself, okay? If you hadn't gotten us off the admin level we never would have made it this far."

Teethree chirped that nevertheless, he would like to make it up to me. He asked that if I was leaving the facility, could he please come along?

Looking T3-M4 over, I had to admit that he'd been helpful so far, and that I even owed him. Anyway, Aithne—he's cute. "Sure, you can come," I told him. "Happy to have you. Come on."

Atton had been watching this little exchange with crossed arms. "So we have a droid now. Fabulous."

I stood. "Look, we don't know what kind of shape the _Ebon Hawk_ will be in. He might be useful once we get to the ship." (I was right, too—without T3-M4 we never could have gone anywhere without a serious and expensive overhaul of the navicomputer. _Thanks_ for that, by the way, Aithne.)

"Sure, and ronto might fly," Atton muttered. He held up the case that had been next to T3-M4. "This case had been dumped, too. Has a door conduit in it. Looks important."

"Keep it. We might need it," I told him. Atton slipped the conduit into his bag, and he and Teethree followed me out of the fuel line and into the facility again.

In this section of the fuel depot, there were still a few rogue droids. But now that Atton and Teethree were with me, all three of us were equipped with real blasters as opposed to mining lasers, the droids didn't present much of a challenge. We burned our way right through the other half of that depot, all the way up to the containment fields that had cut me off before when I'd accessed the level from maintenance instead of the fuel line. "What I wouldn't have given to be standing here four hours ago," I muttered.

Atton heard me. "Yeah. You and me both, Leona."

Teethree, who had some familiarity with the level, led us toward the hangar through the decontamination room. Atton was able to shut down the vents so we could cross safely. On the other side, Atton ran straight for the hangar. He pulled on the access panel of the door, then cried out in frustration. "This door's magnetically sealed. I can't believe this! The ship's right out there, and we can't get to it."

Teethree rolled up to me, though, and beeped.

"Huh? What is that piece of junk saying?" Atton demanded.

"Its designation is T3-M4, Atton. Hand over that conduit, will you?"

Atton handed me the case, and I opened it, and gave the part to T3-M4. He took it in an extendable claw, and rolled off to the hangar computer, beeping happily to be of use.

"How can you even understand that noise?" Atton asked me.

"I sort of learned astromech in self-defense," I explained. "I served with a lot of utility droids in the—but never mind that. The point is, we can get to the _Ebon Hawk_."

"He can't fix that door fast enough for me," Atton said, looking over his shoulder toward the fuel depot nervously. "I think your friends are coming for us. I've got that bad feeling again."

The door to the hangar opened as Teethree rolled down from the hangar computer to join us again. Atton led the way, running to the _Ebon Hawk_. At first I was a little unimpressed, but then I heard booted feet running our way from the direction of the fuel depot. Many booted feet. Atton was right about the danger, and I ran after him.

The ramp was open. Somehow, the ship that had all but crashed here had been repaired (I later found out from T3-M4 that the logs in the hangar computer had explained how the HK-50 unit had ordered the droids to repair the ship, just in case he needed another route off Peragus.) At the moment, I was only grateful it had been repaired. Teethree and I scrambled aboard the ship, and hit the button to close the ramp.

I ran down the ship toward the cockpit, but Atton was already in the pilot's seat, prepping the _Ebon Hawk_ to fly with an expert hand that informed me that yes, he had been a pilot. I opened my pack and tossed him the datapad containing the asteroid drift charts. I forgot to shout a head's up, but Atton caught it mid-air, anyway, and called back to me, "Quick! We're going to need some time to fire up the engines. Let's give the laser turret a workout."

Again, he was right. The _Ebon Hawk_ isn't secured outside, and if I didn't get rid of the incoming Sith, I knew they could easily board. I slipped behind Atton and climbed the ladder to the turret.

The Sith were swarming the hangar like hive-mind insects. They were in heavier armor than their friends from the _Harbinger_. These Sith weren't worried about stealth anymore. They knew we knew they were there. They just wanted to stop us leaving. I powered up the turret, and it hummed to life in my hands. The targeting computer came on, but at such close range, I didn't need it. I could clearly see the dozens of Sith running into the room. I fired.

I fired again and again and again, swiveling my chair and the turret to take out each and every Sith. As they fell around the _Ebon Hawk_, I felt the ship rumble to life beneath me, and my stomach clenched with anticipation, the way it always does just before takeoff, no matter how many times I do it. Out the turret window, I saw the air lock open as the Peragus facility sensed the active _Ebon Hawk_. What Sith I hadn't gunned down yet were sucked out into empty space.

"All right, let's get out of here!" Atton cried.

I swung out of the turret, climbed the ladder, and plopped down into the co-pilot's seat. "What do I need to—"I started to ask Atton, but was sidetracked as I caught a flash of brown in the corner of my eye. Fearing a Sith had gotten by me after all, I whirled, but it was Kreia, grasping her arm, her mouth tight with pain. "Kreia! Where the hell did you come from?" I demanded, then stopped. The arm Kreia clutched ended in a cauterized stump, and I could smell burnt flesh. Kreia's left hand was gone—the same hand in which I had felt such agonizing pain ten minutes before. "Your hand…"

"There is no time," Kreia ground out between clenched teeth. "We must leave."

Atton flew us out of the Peragus mining facility and into the asteroid field. At first, I thought we were safe, but then I heard that ominous proximity beeping from the piloting instruments.

I called up radar on the co-pilot's console. "The _Harbinger_! They're firing on us!"

Atton swore in some language I didn't know, which by the way, is an accomplishment. He jerked the controls around an asteroid and punched up the accelerator.

In the next few seconds it became abundantly clear that we'd really lucked out, Aithne. Whatever else Atton might be, he is a superb pilot. He took us around asteroids at breakneck pace, making pinpoint turns on a dime and evading every shot the _Harbinger_ took at us. But we couldn't lose them. The radar kept beeping at us like a deranged imitative bird.

"If they hit us, we're dead," Atton muttered. "But if they keep missing us, we're dead. That's great odds."

Teethree piped up from the back, and a wave of nausea washed over me as he reported that those weren't great odds at all, and that according to Atton's calculations there was a one hundred percent probability of our imminent demise. He asked whether or not Atton had missed something.

"Somebody shut that trash compactor up!" Atton growled, pulling the _Ebon Hawk_ up and under an asteroid a split-second before it crushed us to bits, and then immediately jerking her right to avoid more shots by the _Harbinger_.

In as calm a voice as I could manage under the circumstances, I told him, "You're doing fine. Just keep avoiding them."

"I'm doing all I can, and that's not enough!" Atton snapped. "What did you do to make these guys so mad, Leona? Now either they hit us and destroy us, or they hit an asteroid and make the whole field go nova!"

"Just keep your distance," I repeated, staring at the radar readout. "We're smaller than they are. Faster. We can outrun them. Minute we do, jump to hyperspace."

Kreia was behind us, leaning against the wall of the cockpit. "What of the asteroids?" she rasped. "They can be destroyed by us as well as by them, can they not?"

Atton flew the _Ebon Hawk_ over the top of another asteroid. "That'll take out the whole field, the colony, and maybe us," he said. "We might not be able to jump to hyperspace in time."

"Then we die here," Kreia said dispassionately. She looked at me from under her hood. "Choose now," she ordered.

Teethree beeped, but I didn't hear what he said. I reached out with everything I could feel of the Force, and felt that somehow, we would escape the Sith this time. We would have to go to the Republic about what had happened on Peragus, about the Sith. I imagined explaining that we had destroyed the fuel facility and took a deep, shuddering breath as the radar continued to shrill at all of us that yes, the _Harbinger_ was still firing.

The Force crystallized in a single moment, and I reached across the aisle and grabbed Atton's shoulder. "Keep out of their way. Left—and—punch it, Rand!"

The second I cried out, the _Harbinger_'s lasers hit an asteroid. The fuel in it ignited, and the field around us ignited. Atton punched the button to make the jump to hyperspace. He gave the controls one last jerk, and I saw the flames go up around us like an infernal halo, then elongate, and disappear, as the _Ebon Hawk_ left the destruction of Peragus behind in normal space.

The whiteness of hyperspace surrounded us, and for a long moment, no one said anything. Atton pressed a few buttons, steadying the operations of the ship. Then he swiveled his chair around so he looked at me and Kreia.

"Well," he said. "Now that we just killed a _planet_ maybe one of you can tell me what's going on. Because between assassin droids, a Sith Lord that looks like he sleeps with vibroblades, and being target practice for a Republic war ship, I was better off in my cell."

Having all the insanity set out like that just made it all too ridiculous. I couldn't help it, Aithne. I burst out laughing. I collapsed into the back of the co-pilot's chair and laughed until my sides hurt and tears leaked all the fear and tension of the last nine hours out of me. "This _day_!" I finally managed. "Just—we're _alive_! Do you know how _amazing_ that is?"

Atton was not relieved. "I'm not kidding," he snapped. "I want to know what's going on!"

"The Republic war ship was the _Harbinger_," Kreia said obviously. "It was seized on its way to Telos by the Sith—they sought you, Jedi."

Just like that, I wasn't amused by our ridiculous survival anymore. I swiveled myself to look at Kreia, standing straight now, though she still clutched her arm. "I'm getting that impression," I told her. "I spend a few years out on the Rim and come back, and suddenly everyone from droids to miners to freaky stealth Sith assassins seem to be 'seeking' me." I looked at the pilot. "Atton—I don't know why, okay? Kreia—why are the Sith after me?"

"Because you are the last of the Jedi," the old woman answered levelly. "Once you are dead, then they have won."

Then I was angry. "They think I'm it, too?" I demanded. "Dammit, I'm an exile! I haven't felt the Force in years, even! Not 'til I woke up today!"

This outburst made Atton look at me sharply, but Kreia replied before he had a chance to speak. "Exile or not, the Sith believe you to be a Jedi Knight, and that is all that matters."

"What happened to the others?" I demanded. "Why am I stuck with this?" The fear and tension was back with a vengeance. If Kreia spoke the truth, this wasn't even halfway over, and it wasn't fair.

"The Jedi Civil War destroyed the Jedi," Kreia said evenly. "By the war's end, barely one hundred Jedi remained. Many fell in battle, and many more were seduced by Revan's teachings."

"But those one hundred…the survivors—what happened to them?" The Jedi proper hadn't done anything for me. Ever. But once again I was assailed by that perverse sense of loss. Exiled or not, I was of the Jedi, and they were my kind. To find that while I'd been away, they'd all been lost, to be the only weak remnant of an Order once so strong—it was overwhelming, and haunting.

"Many Jedi blamed the teachings of the Jedi Masters for Revan's fall and the Civil War that followed," Kreia explained. "The Jedi Academy on Dantooine is nothing more than a crater that echoes with the ghosts of dead Jedi, and the Jedi Temple on Coruscant is empty. The waters in the room of A Thousand Fountains have fallen still, in reverence to the fallen Jedi…and those now lost."

_Lost_. I seized the word like a lifeline. "If there are any Jedi at all left, these Sith will be after them, too, right? We have to warn them."

Kreia shifted. "Perhaps, but they are Jedi no longer. If the Sith have not already slain them, then they will not help you, nor can you help them."

I remembered the dozens of Sith storming the hangar in the Peragus mining facility, the assassins that walked so quietly that I could not sense them through the Force, could barely sense them at all. I remembered the Sith Lord—the broken man and his dead, gravelly voice. "If there is no help, how do we stop them?" I whispered.

For a moment, Kreia did not reply. Then she said, "That is not an easy question to answer. This threat is greater than you know, and I do not believe it is a battle that can be fought."

Out here, things are different, Aithne. There are sleemo freight captains, small-souled criminals with dirty hands and dirtier weapons. It's rough, but you can pass with a certain amount of anonymity. You can walk in relative silence and safety, if you know your way around a blaster. Suddenly, though, after ten years of that, I had an Exchange bounty on my head, and Sith were chasing me across the galaxy. I felt like a neon target had just been painted on my head, bright enough to see seven systems away. I hadn't cared too much about living, during my Exile. But faced with the prospect of imminent death, suddenly I realized I didn't much want to die, either. "I don't fancy running all my life, Kreia," I told the old woman. "I'm tired. Unless we stop the Sith, they're going to keep coming, aren't they?"

Atton had been following this conversation all along, with a set jaw. I could sense his anger growing, even through the whisper of the Force accessible to me. His blue eyes flickered in the dim light of the cockpit. "Look, enough with the 'we', already," he said.

Kreia shot him a contemptuous glance from beneath her hood. "We cannot hope to triumph against them alone," she told me. "To stop them, you will need weapons, allies, and…" she paused, and I felt the air between the two of us stretch with tension. "And a teacher," she finished. My stomach clenched, and for some reason, the iron solid conviction filled me that Kreia had been leading up to this moment ever since we had met. "In the end, I fear it may not be enough."

"What do you mean?" I asked her. "I need to know who these Sith are. How do they know about me? What are we dealing with here?"

She did not reply directly. "You fought in the Mandalorian Wars, and it cost you everything. Are you willing to sacrifice as much again?"

Some of the anger in Atton's face left then, replaced by curiosity. He looked over at me. "What happened then?" he asked. "Who were you?"

I turned to the left, away from both of them. "I fought. That's what happened. Everything that happened was my choice," I added to Kreia.

"You are not listening to me!" Kreia hissed. "This is not like any field of battle you have ever fought in. Think carefully on your choice. If you choose to fight again, if you choose war, it is a path few turn from once the first steps are taken. It carries with it a terrible price. And in the end, you may find you have nothing left to sacrifice."

I turned back to face her. "The Sith attacked me, on Peragus, not the other way around. As far as I'm concerned, the Sith declared this war, not me. I'm not going to run for all eternity. I'm not going to let them just get on with whatever their game is. If I don't stop them, Kreia, I've lost already. I might as well just shoot myself in the head."

Kreia snorted. "Like so many Jedi, you hear, but do not listen," she spat. "You have much to learn." She clutched her arm then, and swayed, obviously wearied and pained by her vehemence, but I kept the wall up and ignored her pain. I needed these answers.

"The _Harbinger_ was going to Telos."

Kreia leaned subtly against the wall again. "Yes. To aid in the recovery effort there. Many roads lead to Telos—including ours."

Atton spoke up again, gesturing toward the piloting computer. "Not like we have much of a choice, the Peragus astrogation charts being what they are. The navicomputer on this ship's voice-locked. I can't get in to pick another course even if I wanted to."

"It is where we must go," Kreia said, shooting Atton a very nasty look. "And where the _Harbinger_ was bound before our unfortunate encounter on Peragus."

I drummed my fingers on my knees, deciding to broach again the question that had puzzled me since I met Kreia. "Encounter. You could call it that. You said you rescued me. How did you find me in the first place, Kreia?"

"You were difficult to find," Kreia said. "But coincidence was on our side. When I learned that you were on the vessel I knew the Sith would not be far behind. When we intercepted the _Harbinger_, it was crippled, drifting in space. It was a small matter to board the vessel and rescue you. Unknown to me, however, the Sith were already on board. Just as we made the jump to hyperspace, they fired upon us, nearly destroying the _Ebon Hawk_."

I compared this account to what I knew. I knew that the _Ebon Hawk_ had been attacked by a Sith war ship and had radioed for help. I knew Captain Reinald of the _Harbinger_ had at that point told his protocol droid, HK-50, to check on me, thus informing him of my presence on the ship. HK-50, however, had actually been an assassin droid in the employ of the Exchange, and had in fact been on the lookout for me—or perhaps any Jedi—for several months. I imagined HK-50 had adopted the post on the Republic ship to cover more ground and keep an ear out. Once he had heard about me, though before he had been relatively innocuous, he had set about sabotaging the _Harbinger_. He had lured me to the med bay and had me sedated, but not before the _Harbinger_ had been ordered by Admiral Onasi to aid the _Ebon Hawk_. The _Harbinger_'s crew had boarded the Sith vessel and recovered the Sith Lord as the systems started failing. At the same time, the Sith assassins must have boarded the _Harbinger_.

So far, so obvious. But I had come across no record on Peragus or on the _Harbinger _that mentioned Kreia before the _Ebon Hawk_ had fired on by the _Harbinger_, which must have been mostly rebooted by the Sith. In fact, the _Harbinger_ records had claimed the _Ebon Hawk_ was deserted. Kreia could have already been on the _Harbinger_ herself, of course, rescuing me, but how had she known I needed rescue in the first place? How had she learned I was on the _Harbinger_ at all? How had she been in a position to rescue me if she'd been under attack by the Sith vessel? And who was the 'we' she referred to when she mentioned intercepting the _Harbinger_?

I rubbed my left hand thoughtfully. "I guess coincidence was on our side," I said doubtfully. "Rather a long succession of them though, don't you think?"

"True," Kreia admitted. "But as one trained in the Force, you know that true coincidences are rare."

"I don't remember you rescuing me," I prodded.

"Whatever had occurred onboard the _Harbinger_ had rendered you unconscious. Though your thoughts were faint, I was still able to find you, sealed in one of the cargo holds," Kreia explained.

Well I knew that was true from conversation with the HK-50 droid. Kreia hadn't been with me when HK-50 had informed me I had been sealed in a cargo hold. Still—"Wait—if the Sith fired on the _Ebon Hawk_—the medical officer on Peragus had a log. She said you were dead when we landed. You yourself admitted you'd been badly hurt, when we met. Enough to have to go into a trance, I guess. How did we get to Peragus?"

Teethree rolled forward then, whistling.

"Be silent!" Kreia commanded. "We're having a conversation here."

But I was listening to Teethree's explanation. "He says he repaired the ship and got us to Peragus," I translated for the others, now wondering where Teethree had come from. Had he been on the _Ebon Hawk_ the entire time?

Atton snorted. "Repaired the ship, my eye." He glared at the little astromech—yeah, Atton's not a huge fan of droids in general. Says they break in the head and therefore can't be trusted. "Next thing you know it's going to claim credit for saving our skins. If that little noisemaker says it repaired the ship, then it can prove it by doing it again." He stood up and waved a hand at Teethree. "Go on. Get!"

Teethree rolled up to Atton and tilted his central processor up. Lights blinked and gears whirred, and then he beeped something very rude. I couldn't help but laugh—honestly, Atton kind of deserved it. Atton's ears turned red, and for a moment I wondered again- as I had when Teethree had told us the odds and Atton had gotten so nervous—if Atton was really as ignorant of astromech as he thought. But then, despite T3-M4's indignation at Atton's discourtesy, he did roll off to start fixing the ship as per Atton's challenge.

Kreia shifted, moving away from the wall. "We have spoken long enough," she declared, "And my wound pains me. If you have other questions, find me in the crew quarters. There we will speak more."

Atton sat back in the pilot's chair. "Hey, don't stop your long, boring rants on my account," he drawled. "I was just getting sleepy-eyed."

Kreia started to move away. "Also, in private, we will be mercifully free from the opinions of imbeciles and fools." Her condescension was chilling, and Atton pressed his lips together, annoyed. Kreia stumbled away.

Quiet fell for about half a second, but I didn't get to enjoy it, because Atton said, "Look, uh, not that I care or anything, but you might want to go check on our passenger—especially with that hand of hers."

"_She_ didn't mention it to any great extent," I growled, annoyed. It was irritating to be told to be considerate by someone who had demonstrated himself callous on multiple occasions in less than twenty-four hours. But my irritation, or my questions about Kreia didn't make Atton any less correct. "But you're right," I sighed. "You can handle things up here?"

"We're on autopilot until we hit Telos," Atton explained. "Until then, a droid could fly this thing. Besides, I think our passenger could use your help."

"Mine in particular?" I challenged. "She seems pretty keen to save me, actually, and not to _need_ anyone." But Kreia's pain still leaked through the cracks in my mental defenses. I didn't like feeling so bonded to her. I didn't like being in such close proximity to anyone, period.

"I think she was barely keeping it together," Atton observed. "I'm surprised she's able to stand with all that pain rolling off her."

The phraseology caught me off guard. Atton spoke of pain like a tangible thing. "You can sense it?" I asked him, intrigued.

"I'm not blind, Leona," Atton scoffed. "If I were her, I'd be screaming like a stuck mynock." He looked sideways at me, then, perhaps rethinking how his sentence had come out. "Well, I mean, a very strong, manly mynock," he amended. "I think she's just too proud to show any weakness, especially in front of you."

"But why would it matter?"

Atton raised an eyebrow at me. "In case you hadn't noticed, she won't say two words to me, but she'll talk your ear off any chance she gets. What you think matters to her. A lot. She wants you to respect her. Besides," he added, sweeping a hand out to indicate the emptiness of hyperspace. "We haven't got much to do until Telos."

"That's the truth," I conceded finally. "All right. I'll go see if I can help her." But before I left Atton, I grabbed my pack from where it lay by the co-pilot's chair and dug through it, pulling out some dried meat and a water skin. "Here. Got this in the dorms back at the facility. You should eat. And—back there in the asteroid field? That was really amazing flying. We would be dead without you."

I grabbed a second water skin and a bag of fruit, and left the cockpit for the crew quarters.

I wonder if you're getting tired of me by now, Aithne. Wishing I could leave so you could have a few minutes of peace and quiet. If you're out of practice relating to others after five years on your own. I certainly was when we first took off in the _Ebon Hawk_. It was part of the reason I was so reluctant to initiate further conversation with Kreia. Only part, of course. I was pretty confident that Atton would bail the moment we landed on Telos, but I knew even then that I wouldn't be easily rid of Kreia. I kind of wanted it the other way around.

You said before my interactions with Atton were interesting. I want to be clear. I had no idea what I thought of the man. The predominant feeling he elicited from me was confusion. His callousness and impropriety made me uncomfortable, and I could tell that he was a criminal, or had been. But it was undeniable that though he'd been scared half out of his mind back on Peragus, he'd still managed to be an enormous help. He was a fantastic pilot, and I knew he'd be handy to have around if the Sith were going to chase me across the galaxy. Annoying, but handy. And the only reason I had to doubt his honesty at this point was that I could never believe him when he said he didn't care what happened to me, or to Kreia.

Kreia's honesty for some reason struck me as much more questionable. She had a tendency to not answer questions directly. Her story of my rescue had holes. Since meeting her, of course, I could feel the Force again. And that was wonderful, but immediately afterward I had felt like my own hand had melted when Kreia had had hers cut off. Making my way back toward the starboard dormitory, I poked an exploratory hole in the mental wall I'd erected in the back of my head. As soon as I did, though, my knees buckled like a hinge with all the pain that flooded through the link. Kreia had done something to reconnect me to the Force, but the renewed sensitivity I could only be grateful to her for had some definite drawbacks. And I couldn't help but wonder what Kreia wanted with me, that she had seen fit to take the trouble at all.

When I found Kreia, she was sitting cross-legged on the starboard dormitory floor. She didn't rise when I entered, so instead, I sat opposite her.

I held out the bag of dried fruit and the water skin. "I brought you some food."

Kreia didn't move to take the food, so awkwardly, I sat it down in front of her. "Have you come for more answers? There is little left to give," Kreia said.

There was an edge in her voice that left little doubt that she was referring to her hand. "I didn't ask you to fight the Sith Lord," I retorted defensively, then swallowed, wondering why I had such a negative reaction to this woman. "Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?" I added, trying to make amends.

The old woman relaxed a little. "This wound is a physical thing, and will fade with time," she told me. "It was necessary…some things may only be learned from sacrifice."

The way she said it left in doubt who exactly was doing the learning, and it made me uneasy. But I tried to offer sympathy again. "Nevertheless, I'm sorry you got hurt."

"Save your pity," Kreia suddenly snapped. "I am here to save you, not the other way around."

"Why don't we just help one another?" I asked her.

Kreia's reply was acidic. "I do not need your condescension, nor your lectures. If anyone needs training and guidance, it is you."

I lost patience with trying to be nice. "Then teach me to shut out your pain!" I burst out. "Ever since I met you, you've been in the back of my mind. I can feel you hurting, Kreia! For a moment there, back in the fuel line, I collapsed! If these Sith are after me—I can't be falling down when you get hurt!"

The pain ceased almost immediately as Kreia erected her own mental wall, one much stronger and steelier than mine. But a nanosecond before she did, I felt the echo of something like satisfaction across our bond. "I do not know if it is possible," Kreia told me. "And I fear that had the pain been more intense, the consequences would have been more extreme."

The words struck with brutal impact. "You mean I could have died," I managed, after a moment.

"Possibly, yes, and I fear it works both ways. I would not wish to test it…nor should you."

I stared at the old woman. Kreia might be wrong, I knew. She might—though I didn't have any galactic idea why she _would_—she _might_ be lying. But if she was right, and my life had been somehow tied to hers through this incredibly strong bond, then my suspicion I'd be stuck with her for a while had been dead on. I thought very hard for a moment, trying to see some way around it, but when I couldn't, I said, "I see. Okay. So you'll come with me until we can figure out some way to fix this."

Kreia inclined her head in acknowledgment. "When battle is upon us, I suspect our minds are prepared enough to shield each other from the pain. I think we shall not have a repeat incident of what happened at Peragus."

As I thought about her words, I found myself rubbing my left hand. The pain I had felt in the fuel line when Kreia had lost her hand had been very real. I had no difficulty imagining how it might have been worse if Kreia had died, how it might indeed have been fatal. But for some reason I couldn't get Kreia's words out of my mind, that _some things may only be learned from sacrifice_. Those words, along with that split second of satisfaction that had bled over the mental link before Kreia had closed her mind, nagged at me like a sore tooth. "I've never heard of a bond like this," I said finally. "Not in the holocrons. Not in the Jedi histories. Not ever."

Kreia answered completely placidly. "I confess its nature eludes me as well. But the bond is strong and its roots run deep. It seems the Force flows easily between us—when one of us manipulates the Force to heal or strengthen ourselves, the other is aided as well. A powerful technique, indeed—though, as we have noticed, it has its drawbacks."

I sniffed, brought my hands together, and regarded Kreia over the tips of my fingers. "So. Now what?" I asked her.

"I do not know. The Sith struck more swiftly than I thought. And they will not stop until they have you in their grasp. If you fall all the galaxy will echo it."

"We can't run forever," I reminded her.

"It does not matter where we go," Kreia said finally. "It is not the destination that matters; it is the journey. All paths will take us to the end, whatever it may be, and no matter how strongly we fight against it. For now, we are bound for Telos, and that is enough."

"Why Telos? Why is Telos important?" I asked her.

"Before the war," Kreia replied, answering directly for once, "Jedi who failed their training were sent to the fields of Telos to serve the galaxy, not as Jedi Knights, but as farmers and laborers. The destruction of Telos was complete. I doubt any Jedi remain. Yet there may be…echoes of their passing. We shall see."

"What if we don't find anything, though?"

"Then we are left with nothing more than what we had already—my faith in you, and your ability to meet what comes."

I supposed I had best address the whole teacher-thing she seemed to be pushing. So I said, "When we were on Peragus, I felt the Force again for the first time in ten years right after I met you."

The left corner of Kreia's thin, dry mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Indeed. And was it the same as before?" she wanted to know.

I dropped my hands from my mouth, resting them on my thighs. "It hurts, Kreia," I admitted. "It never hurt before. But—it's a good pain. It was like someone tossed a sonic grenade at me all those years ago. Like for ten years I've been completely deaf, off balance, but now, my ears have just started ringing, because my hearing's coming back."

"If my suspicions are correct," Kreia said slowly, "Perhaps the damage the Jedi Council did was not as permanent as they thought. It is not an easy thing, to cut one off from the Force."

The entire room seemed to crystallize, Aithne. I could see the dust motes in the light beam from the dormitory lamp. I could sense the draft from down the hall blowing through every single hair on my head. Each wrinkle on Kreia's face stood out, and the shadows cast by her hood seemed deeper. I heard the blood rushing in my ears like a waterfall, felt my heart banging against my ribs like a hammer, but I was cold and clammy all over. Until then, I had never suspected the Jedi had anything to do with my alienation from the Force. "The Jedi—is that what happened?" I heard myself whisper. "They cut me off from the Force?"

Kreia's laughter rang out, harsh and unpleasant. "What did you believe? That you suddenly lost your connection to the Force without reason?"

I couldn't understand why the Jedi would cut me off from the Force, though. Aithne, I was the only one that went back after the Wars, the only one that served under you, thought the War was just, but still maintained the sovereignty of the Council afterward. All throughout, I did only what I had thought to be right, and at the end of the Wars, I had hoped to fix things, to help rebuild. I'd been exiled. That had been my punishment, and I'd thought it ridiculously unfair, but no one on the Jedi Council had ever said anything about stripping me from the Force. To hear Kreia state that they had, so matter-of-factly, shook the very foundations of my galaxy. "But—how could they?" I stammered. "I don't believe it. To cut me off from the Force—it was sensory deprivation."

Kreia extended her remaining hand and touched mine, and I flinched away from the cold, dry, withered claw. "Indeed," Kreia said. "It must have been. It is much like losing one's ability to listen, or being put into a deep sleep, unable to awaken to the galaxy around you. Such a thing has been done before, when the Jedi have pronounced sentence on their own…and exiled them, as they did to you."

"But—I can feel the Force again now," I said. "Not like I did. But it's coming back. Can't we do anything, help reverse the process?" If Kreia could help me feel the Force again, I wanted her help.

"It is possible that such a thing may be undone," Kreia told me. "Still, even so, the chance of the Jedi undoing such a thing for a traitor is a slim thing at best, assuming they yet live."

"But it _is _possible," I repeated. "How?"

Kreia patted my hand one last time, then drew back. "Our link may have had other consequences," she said. "Perhaps you can feel the Force again. Distantly, through me. If so, then there is hope. I may be able to teach you, train you to feel the Force again. And if you will not allow me to help you, then other Jedi must train you…or undo the damage they have done."

Once again, the wave of hyper-clarity washed over me. I peered deep into the shadows of Kreia's hood, and realized for the first time that the old woman was blind. Her eyes were milky white, unseeing, and she was looking at me only through the Force. It was a difficult position, Aithne. I was feeling the Force again through my bond with Kreia. If I didn't learn to use whatever remained of the Force in me again, the oversight in training could kill me, kill Kreia, or both, if we had a lethal bond and I couldn't control it. If we did not have a lethal bond, if Kreia was wrong, or lying, then some darker game was at work, but either way, I wasn't sure I could take the chance. And either way, I couldn't let things be now. I had been insensate for ten years, Aithne, dead in every way that mattered. But I could feel life again, and the echoes of life, humming in the distance, maddeningly faint. I was waking up for the first time in a decade, and I knew I couldn't go back to sleep. I didn't want to go back to sleep. And therefore I needed—maybe not a teacher, but a helper. Someone Force Sensitive, someone trained. And here Kreia was: so convenient, so accessible. And there might not be anyone else.

"You, Atton, the Sith, the Republic—they all think I'm it," I pointed out. "The last of the Jedi."

"Then I am your only hope, as you are mine," Kreia said simply. "We are a sad pair, you and I, to defend the galaxy against such a thing. I offer to train you to become strong again, to know the ways of the Force, and to hear the Force sing within you as it once did."

Kreia was offering me the very thing I wanted most in the universe: the ability to feel the Force again, to be some kind of Jedi after years of Exile and anonymity. But despite all that, Aithne, I looked at that old woman, and I felt it was _too_ convenient, _too_ easy. I still didn't know why Kreia would want to teach me, but I knew she undoubtedly did, and I felt like the whole reason that Kreia had tracked me down was so she could make this offer. I felt like such a schutta to be so suspicious—crazy, insane. Kreia had taken on a Sith Lord two hours prior and lost a hand, defending me. Because of her, I could feel the Force for the first time in a decade. But still I doubted.

However, I had no proof, no concrete reasoning behind my distrust. Just a gut feeling. My head began to ache, but I answered Kreia, "I—thank you. Anything you can do to help I would appreciate."

"Then our training shall begin," Kreia said with a smile. "Whenever I travel with you, I shall impart what I can to you, through my words and presence."

I asked her a lot of questions after that, mainly trying to get a handle on exactly the state of the Republic and the immediately adjacent Outer Rim since the events that had ensued after the Mandalorian Wars. I didn't learn any more about the Jedi Civil War itself than I'd already learned from Jolee, Dustil, and Atton, but I did learn quite a bit more about the Republic. Kreia told me how it was struggling for life since the Jedi Civil Wars, though she wasn't too sympathetic. "A culture's teachings," she said, "And most importantly, the nature of its people, achieve definition in conflict. They find themselves, or find themselves lacking. Too long did the Republic remain unchallenged. It is a stagnant beast that labors for breath and has for centuries. The Jedi Order was the heart that sustained its sickness. Now the Jedi are lost, we shall see how long the Republic can survive."

Kreia had a point about the uses of conflict, I knew. It was something I had learned first, long ago, from you, Aithne. But I disagreed that the Republic was stagnant, sick, superfluous. I'd gone to war to defend its people, and hearing of its difficulties, I was inclined to do what I could to help. Law and structure serve a purpose, and the Republic has provided these things for centuries. Of course the Republic needed to reform in some ways. But the Republic offers justice, representation, and stability for billions across the galaxy, and I couldn't then, and I can't now view its fall with equanimity. That Kreia could disturbed me. "There has to be something we can do," I protested.

"We shall see," Kreia said in tones of supreme unconcern. "The Jedi Civil War cost the Republic much. The resources of the Sith seemed limitless. The Republic's were not. Fleets of war ships, soldiers, and people were lost. Entire planets were decimated—their inhabitants dead—or refugees. It is a great burden for any civilization to bear."

She paused, then continued. "This new threat, though. It is a quiet thing, unlike the Jedi Civil War. It drives at something deeper than the strength of the Republic. It is aimed at you."

Kreia was describing a fundamental shift in the aims of the Sith, I realized. She had referenced it before. The Sith I faced, Aithne, weren't concerned with taking over the galaxy. They just wanted to take the Jedi out. And at that point in time, all that was left of the entire Jedi Order seemed to be…me. An entire people, an entire organization, focused solely on my elimination or conversion. The scope of the thing dwarfed me, and terrified me. "How do you mean?" I asked Kreia.

"The Republic was never what was important," Kreia replied. "Ever. It was but a shell that surrounds the Jedi—just as the teachings of the Jedi are but a shell surrounding the heart of man. You see, the war, the true war, has never been one waged by droids, or war ships, or soldiers. They are but crude matter, obstacles against which we test ourselves. The true war is waged in the hearts of all living things, against our own natures—light or dark. That is what shapes and binds the galaxy, not these creations of man." She paused, then continued, in a whisper. "You are the battleground, Darden Leona. And if you fall, the death of the Republic will be such a quiet thing, a whisper that heralds the darkness to come."

Throughout my conversation with Kreia, I had had an ever-increasing headache. As Kreia finished, it gave a particularly painful, urgent throb, and I cupped my forehead in my hands, massaging my temples with my thumbs. "This is—wow. I need some time to think. Or sleep. Or—something." I laughed like I had laughed after our escape from the asteroid field, hysterically, overcome with the breadth of my sudden difficulties. "This _day_, I'm telling you!" I half-sobbed.

Kreia waited for me to finish laughing, then regally said, "See to that fool in the cockpit. Remind him of our destination. I would not want him attempting to veer from Telos."

Her rudeness to Atton bothered me. "Look, his name is Atton," I told her. "And sure, he's a little—"Unable to explain exactly what Atton was, because I had no idea myself, I gave up. "Whatever else he is, he's an incredible pilot," I said instead. "And he's been a huge help so far. Just—play nice, okay?"

Kreia scowled. "He is a fool and an imbecile, and his potential lies downward, not up," Kreia snapped. "Watch that one. His thoughts are slippery. I do not trust him, and nor should you. Such a man serves himself first, and his 'allies' next."

Her tone told me I was unlikely to convince her otherwise, and anyway, I didn't know him well, either. "Maybe," I admitted, "He'll probably leave after we land, anyway. I just don't want the trip to be more uncomfortable than it's going to be with the supplies we've got anyway. Got it?"

I stood without waiting for a reply and walked out. If the trip to Telos from Peragus took more than three days, I knew we were all going to be hungry and irritable, and if Kreia was hostile to Atton from the get-go, it would just make things difficult. Atton hadn't wanted to be involved in this mess, anyway. I didn't really think Kreia had the right to dump on him for just happening to be on Peragus in need of an escape at the same time we were.

I made my way back up to the cockpit, head throbbing, overwhelmed, and generally in a terrible mood. Atton swiveled his chair around as I came in and gave a nod of greeting. "How's our passenger? Still aging?" he asked sardonically.

I swung up into the co-pilot's chair again, tucking my feet under me. "She seems to have some sort of aversion to answering a question directly," I told him. "Look up 'cryptic' in the Galactic Basic dictionary—she probably originated the term."

Atton rolled his eyes. "What a surprise. Just so you Jedi know, the whole 'cryptic' routine isn't mysterious, it's just irritating. If you can really see the future, you should be at the pazaak table."

I looked at the ceiling, trying to get my brain to stop spinning. "But to know the future one must know one's self," I muttered.

Atton glanced over at me. "What, was that some kind of joke? That's what I'm talking about. 'Jedi Talk'." He scoffed. "You two should start your own little Jedi Academy."

My bag was still by the co-pilot's chair, and I got my blaster out of it and began fiddling with it. "But to teach, one must be willing to learn."

"All right, cut it out!" Atton said, annoyed. I tossed my blaster and caught it in my left hand. The butt hit my palm with a satisfying smack, and I looked at him finally.

"Yeah. It annoys me, too," I told him, smiling a little.

Atton's gaze flickered down to my lips, and lower. I turned away, wrapping my arms around myself, uncomfortable again. "The last Jedi in the galaxy," Atton muttered, "I get the comedian who runs around in her underwear. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I mean, compared to the Jedi Queen of the Galaxy back there, I'd rather be stuck in an escape pod for a year with you than her."

My head throbbed again. "I'm not quite sure she's a Jedi," I murmured, massaging my head again. "I'm not sure _what_ she is."

"Then she must be royalty," Atton sneered, "Because she's got to be Queen of the Galaxy to bark out orders like that." He leaned back in his chair, and his face turned thoughtful. "Or maybe she's senile. I mean, how old do you think she is? She may have been good looking once, but it takes some hard living to make creases like that."

"I think it does," I answered. "She seems like she's seen a lot."

"Yeah," Atton said, with distasteful relish. "Her face looks like it was plowed by crazed Ord Mantell farmers. Don't tell me you were too distracted by her personality to notice."

Okay, a little annoyance I could understand. Kreia certainly hadn't rolled out the welcome mat for Atton. But the level of hostility Atton was exhibiting was unwarranted, and I told him so. "Look—ease off the insults, will you? She was wounded helping us to escape, remember?"

Atton's ears went pink again and he held up his hands defensively. "Whoa, all right, all right! Don't get mad at me. Hey, I didn't ask her to stay behind and get her hand cut off, okay?" He paused. "I mean—I appreciate what she did and all, but she could stand to lay off the insults herself, you know."

"I do know," I replied, firmly. Atton's eyes widened a little, and his posture relaxed. "I told her as much. She didn't take it well. She doesn't trust you."

Atton shifted, and then he asked, "Do you?"

It took me a while to decide how to reply. "I don't know," I said honestly after a moment. "I did find you in a holding cell for some security violation you never fully explained."

Atton started to argue, and I cut him off. "I don't know if I trust her, either, though."

Atton stopped protesting, and he peered at me with curiosity. "Why not?"

My head throbbed, and it felt good to admit my questions to someone, whatever guilt I had for harboring them in the first place. "Her story doesn't add up completely, is all. It seems to me that it was just a little too convenient that she found me when she did, that everything's been happening the way it has—never mind."

I felt him staring at me, judging, evaluating, and couldn't meet his gaze. I looked down to find I'd opened the casing on my blaster, started modifying it without a thought. Atton's gaze followed mine, and I knew he could see my uncertainty just as he had seen Kreia's pain. Words tumbled out without my leave. "Just—everyone's after me, right? What if she's one of them? Though, she hasn't tried to kill me yet, which makes her automatically better than HK-50 or the Sith…it's crazy. She took on a Sith Lord for us, she's giving up hands and bending over backwards to help me, but—something's weird, okay?" I shoved the blaster and the parts I found I'd retrieved from my bag in a sudden wave of frustration.

Atton quickly reached out and caught them. "Careful, Leona!" he snapped.

I rolled my eyes at him, producing the power pack to the blaster from my pocket. "I took the power pack out."

Atton had this nonplussed expression on his face, and I suddenly realized how much I had told him without meaning to. I bit my lip. "I've been on my own a long time," I muttered. "I shouldn't be telling you this."

Atton handed me back my blaster. "No," he said, after a short, awkward moment. "It—it's okay. Don't stop your long, boring rants on my account."

But instead of biting, the tone was teasing, unexpectedly gentle. I looked up at Atton, realizing he was out of his depth, but was consenting to listen. "She's my teacher now, apparently," I told him. "What do I want a teacher for? What did I want any of this for?"

Atton shifted in his seat, and his gaze darted off to the side. For a single moment, a hardness flitted across his face—something twitched in his jaw and a darkness flickered in the back of his eyes. "I guess you become a Jedi, you deal with the mess, don't you?"

Right. He didn't like Jedi. I faced him full on, abandoning my blaster and parts. "I'm really not a Jedi anymore, Atton," I told him. "I'm really not." I sighed then. "But it's not your problem and it's not your fault. You just got sucked in by accident. I'm glad you were there, and I'm grateful for the help you were back on Peragus. I guess we'll go our separate ways on Telos."

Atton wouldn't meet my gaze. "I guess so."

"When will we get there?" I asked him.

"The day after tomorrow," he answered. "It's the only place Peragus had logged in their astrogation charts. If you thought Peragus was dead, then Telos is a dying world they're trying to bring back to life. You can check our course on the galaxy map if you want—it's on the wall behind you."

"I'll do that," I said, standing. "You—you should get some rest. While you can."

Hesitantly, I patted him on the shoulder again, and he caught my gaze again. I sensed, vaguely, his emotions change, and he scanned me up and down again, slowly, looking vaguely amused. I moved away, hastily.

"What happened?" he asked as I looked at the map. He was right—we were en route to Telos, due in thirty-six hours.

"What are you talking about?" I asked him.

"Don't give me that," he snorted, and something in his voice had changed. "All this 'I'm not a Jedi' stuff, the hag saying you are. There were plenty of times back on Peragus where a lightsaber would have been helpful. So—where's yours?"

It was like that hardness that had come into his face briefly a minute ago. Atton's tone wasn't friendly, and he had to know it was a sensitive subject. "I'm _not_ a Jedi," I said, quietly. "Funnily enough, the Jedi Council—back when there was one—they didn't generally let exiles keep their lightsabers."

I heard a creak as his chair swiveled so he could face me again. "I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber," he said in a light, almost mocking tone. "Guess I heard wrong. Were you a single hilt or one of those double-bladed Jedi?"

I spread my hands, indicating my glaring lack of stature. "Atton. Look at me. I need all the range in a weapon I can get. Mine had a double-blade."

Atton did look at me, up and down. This time, however, I got a very different feeling about it. He looked like you used to look when you were trying to figure out how to solve a problem—like he was wondering the best way to take me down in a fight. Suddenly I felt cold. "I hear the twin blades are harder to master," he mused thoughtfully. "But they can make enemies stampede over each other running for cover. A lot of Jedi in the Mandalorian Wars used double-bladed sabers. A more aggressive blade, gives you more slaughter per swing. Hey, you didn't go red, did you?"

To have all I went through, all that all of us went through, reduced to blasé statistics and analysis, to have that question asked so off-handedly, when I'd gone through ten years of exile because I couldn't convince the Jedi Council the answer was 'no', that I'd done the right thing, the necessary thing, it infuriated me. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to slap Atton Rand.

Before I knew what was happening, I was standing inches away from Atton, poking his chest. "I never fell, Atton Rand," I told him, furious. "I don't care _what_ you've heard, _what_ they say. I _never_ did. I did what I did because I thought it was _right_, and I've gone through _hell_ because of it. Got it?"

I realized I'd made another mistake coming so close in my anger, as Atton's pupils dilated and his mouth curved up slightly. "And stop that!" I snapped, stumbling back.

Atton shrugged. "All right. Forget I said anything," he said. "Are we on course? You can tell dear Kreia that the fool hasn't tried to fly you off into Unknown Space just yet." He turned away.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to remove myself from the situation before I said something that would make the next thirty six hours angrier than Kreia and Atton's efforts combined. "Good night." I turned on my heel and left, but his dry voice followed me down the corridor.

"'Night, sweetheart."

I thought about returning to the starboard dormitory, but I couldn't face Kreia yet. I definitely couldn't go to sleep in the portside dormitory, where Atton would be sleeping. I wandered around the ship desperately for about five minutes, and then settled into the med bay cot. My eyes stung. I didn't know whether with unshed tears or with exhaustion.

I didn't trust them, either of them. Kreia's words were cryptic, her motivations unreadable. At times Atton seemed concerned for my safety, like he badly wanted my trust. At others he was inexplicably hostile. Certainly he hated Jedi, though I didn't think he hated me. And throughout his wandering eyes and inappropriate remarks tied everything up into knots with—not disgust—but discomfort. Confusion.

Everything was confused, and I didn't have time to be confused, if Kreia was even remotely right about the size of the opposition I found myself so suddenly confronted with. I needed a goal, needed something to work toward…not this…_mess_.

I confess I cried, which of course only made my eyes sting and my head ache worse. But I was interrupted by a curious beeping at the open door.

I took a breath, wiped my eyes on the sleeve of the mining uniform I still wore. I looked down at Teethree. Droids make so much more sense than people, Aithne. Especially the ones that aren't trying to kill me.

"And where'd you come from then, Teethree?" I asked him.

He beeped, whistled. For whatever reason, he wasn't telling. I frowned as I looked him over.

"You've seen a lot. The carbon scoring, the scratches—that didn't all happen on Peragus. Could I—would you mind if I do some maintenance on you?"

Teethree rolled into the med bay. He told me that he had lost some functionality due to battle, and to an excess of programs in his behavior core. If I wanted to help, he'd be grateful. He told me it was his job to fix things, and he was afraid he wasn't operating at peak functionality. Then he said I was much nicer than the pilot—like his old master, and the other ones.

"How long ago was this?" I asked, confused, as droids generally undergo memory wipes with new masters, or even more often than that. "What are you talking about?"

Teethree's central processor swiveled, and I heard one of his gears catch. "No, don't worry about it, okay?" I told him quickly. "It's fine. Force—how long have you been without a memory wipe?"

I didn't have the parts to give him one, obviously. But I did open his casing and fiddle with wires and programming for a long time. I streamlined functions and diversified abilities. I upped mobility in the wheel motors and tried to open his memory up to speed logical processing and access. I worked on him until my brain was full of electrical impulses and equations for computer programming instead of human doubt and distrust, grief for the Jedi, and apprehension about the galactic battle apparently taking place in my soul. When all that was gone, my headache had dissipated, and all that was left was exhaustion, I shut Teethree's casing. "There you are," I sighed. "Hope that helps."

He ran into me affectionately, trilled once, and then rolled away to talk to the hyperdrive. Me? I lay back down on the cot and reached out with the Force. I heard the hum of the _Ebon Hawk_, and faintly outside her hull, I could hear the sage, silvery song of the stars as they flew by outside the hyperspace lane. I could hear Teethree whirring a few yards away, and just barely, I could hear the beating of Atton and Kreia's hearts. Then I retreated back into myself and closed my eyes, with a brief prayer I wouldn't have nightmares.

* * *

_ Aithne was silent for a moment after Darden broke off this time. Then she asked, "Getting close to 1900 standard hours here. D'you want me to call for food—or would you actually like some of that protein over there?" She jerked her head dismissively at the blocks of protein in the kitchen corner._

_ Darden grinned. "We have plenty of that on the _Ebon Hawk_. Go ahead and call for some real food." Aithne nodded, and pulling a standard communications device out of a pocket of her cream-colored tunic, she punched up some numbers. _

_ A little later, Aithne and Darden sat crisscross in the middle of her apartment floor, away from the cot and the window of questionable security, slurping noodles and prodding at meat of uncertain origin. _

_ "I can't believe the Jedi are really all gone," Aithne said eventually. "These Sith you describe—they aren't _my _Sith, but I still feel responsible…"_

_ "No," Darden said. "Causation and responsibility, remember. And in this case, you don't carry either weight. If anything, the Sith in the story were inspired by _me_."_

_ Aithne stopped halfway in raising the glass to her lips. "Because of Malachor V," she said lowly. "Because of what it did to the Force. Yes, I see." She paused. "It still wasn't fair that you had to fight them alone." _

_ "I definitely could have used your help," Darden said._

_ Aithne took a sip, and smiled. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how you managed without it?" she suggested. "You were on your way to…to Telos," she finished, her voice a little softer. _

_ Darden studied her companion's face with sympathy, but didn't comment on the sadness she saw in Aithne's face. "Yes, I was," she answered. "And the minute we landed, Atton, Kreia, and I were arrested…_

* * *

**Coming 5/1: As Darden relates the beginnings of her adventures on Telos, Aithne comes to know her a little bit better than report has informed her amnesiac mind—who she is as a leader, and why she made the choices she made, after the Mandalorian Wars. **

**To those of you reading, thanks! If you could leave a review to let me know what you think, it'd be great. But as ever,**

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	7. VI

**Disclaimer: My AU is dispersed about the net on a strictly non-exclusive, non-profit basis.**

* * *

VI.

Complications

_ "I stood at the head of the boarding ramp with Kreia, Teethree, and Atton, looking out at the hangar. This station was the size of a mid-size city, and the entire Telosian Restoration Effort operated out of it. The hangar was clean and efficient, but I could sense a tension in the air, a business stretched just a hair too thin. I looked at my companions. _

"Well. Here we are, Kreia. Immediate objectives are to resupply and find us another pilot, huh? We'll look around, too. See if we can't find any trace of the Jedi."

I turned to Atton and extended my hand to shake. "Hey. It's been fun. Thanks for your—"

Just then, a voice sounded over the hangar comm. "Attention: This is Citadel Station Bay Control—Dock Module 126. Please remain where you are. Lieutenant Dol Grenn will arrive shortly to meet with you. That is all."

Atton put down his hand, and I withdrew mine. Atton looked at the window of the maintenance booth. "I don't like the sound of that," he muttered. "If they think we caused that explosion on Peragus…"

The door to the hangar whooshed open, and three armed and uniformed men walked inside.

"Uh oh. Here comes the welcoming party," Atton warned. "They may not know what happened, so don't blow it."

"Don't blow what?" I asked him. "We didn't do anything wrong. We have nothing to hide."

I brushed past Atton and walked down the ramp to meet the leader of the uniformed men. He was a short, sharp-faced man in his mid-fifties. "I'm Lieutenant Grenn," he said. "Telos Security Force. I'm under orders to take you into custody in regards to the destruction of the Peragus Mining Facility."

"I'm Darden Leona," I told him, as Atton and Kreia and Teethree moved down the ramp to join me on the ground. "These are my companions, Atton Rand and Kreia. Are we under arrest?"

Lieutenant Grenn hesitated. "You haven't been formally charged," he admitted. "But you will be placed under house arrest pending the results of our investigation. Due to the nature of the investigation, I have no specific timetable to offer you. In the meantime your ship and any droids will have to be given over for safekeeping."

Teethree beeped inquisitively, and Grenn nodded sternly. "Yes, that includes you," he told Teethree. "You are a droid, so you will have to be detained. In addition," he added to me, Kreia, and Atton, "We will have to take your arms and armor until the completion of our inquiry."

Over the years I've found it's best to cooperate with officials when for some reason I'm in trouble for something. The politer I am, the worse they feel about arresting me. If I'm nice, the consequences are lighter if they decide I'm guilty, and it makes negotiating for favors easier. In addition, if you cooperate all through the investigation, and they do decide I'm guilty, they're always off-guard when I make my escape.

So I drew my blaster out of my waistband, handing it butt first over to one of Grenn's friends. "Naturally. Will we be able to get our things back?" I asked Grenn.

Predictably, Dol Grenn had already dropped his blaster rifle a few degrees. He nodded. "If you are cleared of any involvement, your personal effects will be returned to you. You will be held briefly in the TSF station until living quarters can be arranged, at which point you will be placed under house arrest. Do you understand?"

I shot a glance at Kreia and Atton. Atton looked annoyed, but didn't argue. Kreia was impassive. I looked back at Grenn. "Perfectly, Lieutenant," I told him. "We'll cooperate, and if we can be of any service in the investigation we'd be more than delighted to do so."

"Good," the lieutenant said firmly, though I could see a noticeable release of tension around his eyes. "My men will relieve you of any arms and armor. Please follow me."

Atton groaned. "Tell me I'm not going to jail again," he muttered to me.

"It was always a possibility," I murmured. "Just hand over the pack and follow the guy for now. Sorry about this."

"It's not your fault," Atton replied. I tossed my pack over at the same guy I'd given my blaster to. He caught it, looking a little surprised at its light weight. We'd eaten all of the food that had filled it on the way. Atton tossed his bag to the other guy. I heard him grunt a little. Atton's pack had more than one extra blaster we'd picked up on the _Harbinger_ in it. As Kreia had no arms or armor to hand over, she simply passed between the two guys, her head held majestically high, not looking to either side.

The three of us followed Lieutenant Dol Grenn through Citadel Station, and Teethree beeped sadly behind us. I felt a little bad leaving him, and of course I wasn't happy to be going to jail. But honestly, supplies and credits were both low. Under arrest Kreia and I—and Atton—would at least be assured three meals a day and the best information about what was going on here at Citadel Station.

The last time I had been to Telos, it had been only weeks after my exile. Citadel Station hadn't existed. Millions of people had lived on Telos' surface, which was a year or more away from destruction. This time, I could faintly feel the pain of the planet below, echoes of bombardment and dying men, women, and children. But I could also feel the life around me. Along the shining walkways of the station there were potted trees and grasses of Telos' native species. Shuttles ran to different modules where people lived, worked, played, and rebuilt the world below. I felt the promise of the station, its hope for the future, the refugees of Telos that would soon become its citizens once again, and begin once more.

Lieutenant Grenn led us through the Station to a small, bustling office. A protocol droid dealt with traffic at the front desk. A few officers in the orange and gray that signified that these were localized Republic officials were off duty, joking and laughing. But Grenn led us to the back toward detainment. I stepped into an empty force cage without complaint or prompting. Kreia stepped into the next one over.

Atton sighed. "I know I'm going to regret this," he remarked. But then he stepped into the one opposite me, holding up his hands.

An officer pressed a lever by the door, and the energy walls hummed to life around me and the others. "You will be held here briefly," Lieutenant Grenn explained, looking, however, a little chagrined, seeing as the three of us had made no complaint and made every effort to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Living quarters are being arranged for you and your companions as we speak. Someone will return shortly to escort you to an apartment in Residential Module 082."

"That's very generous of you," I told him.

Grenn opened his mouth as though to apologize for the force cage, then, remembering that he still didn't know if we'd blown up Peragus or not, shut it again. He turned, and followed by his two officers, left the detainee room and closed the door.

Atton gave a huge, fake yawn, and stretched. "Well. We might be here for a while. Might as well get comfortable."

"We will not be here for long," Kreia said.

"At least they'll feed us," I shrugged. "We were about out of water on the _Ebon Hawk_, and if I'd had to eat one more piece of that jerky I swear my tongue would have resembled nothing so much as a prune."

In the absence of any immediate prospect of release, I figured Atton was right and I might as well get comfortable. I sat down on the floor of the force cage and drew my knees up to my stomach. Kreia sat down crisscross, and with her arms upon her thighs, seemed to start meditating. Atton was the last to sit, and he looked over at me.

"Looks like we're stuck together a little while longer, huh?" he said, quietly, so as not to disturb Kreia.

"Seems so," I said. "I am sorry about that. I hoped they'd leave us alone. You didn't ask for this."

Atton shrugged. "Nah, it's not so bad. Prison on Peragus, prison on Telos, it's all the same to me. At least the company's better here."

It was an unexpectedly nice thing for him to say, when I knew he wanted nothing more than to hightail it out of my and Kreia's mess with the Sith. Unable to come up with a reply, I dropped my gaze.

Kreia stood then, and I felt her vigilance spike. "Someone is coming," she hissed.

Adrenaline pumped through me, and I clambered to my feet just as the door opened, and a man in the TSF uniform entered, alone. He closed the door behind him, and walked up to my force cage, looking me over like a specimen in a zoo.

"So," he said in a soft, taunting voice. "This is the last of the Jedi. I must admit, I'm a little disappointed. A little short, aren't you?"

"What's going on? Who are you?" I asked him, projecting my voice in the hopes that it would be heard beyond the door.

"The Exchange has a bounty on Jedi, you know," the man said. "You're worth quite a bit of money."

Atton sneered in the cage across from me. "The Exchange, huh? I'm pretty sure some two-bit pistol jockey like yourself isn't one of them," he said contemptuously.

The man rounded on Atton. "I'm more than skilled enough to work for the Exchange," he snapped.

Atton snorted. "You bounty hunters couldn't even win a fair fight. You're the cheapest, most worthless mercenary scum in the galaxy. I'd hire a Mandalorian over your filth in a second."

I wondered what the hell he was playing at. The bounty hunter had a blaster in his hand, and we were still in force cages. I opened my mouth to tell Atton to shut up, but Atton glanced at me warningly over the guy's shoulder, and I rethought.

"No Mandalorian could match my skills!" the man declared. "No Mandalorian could have been cleaver enough to infiltrate this station, taken the identity of one of the guards, then…"

"Then what…" Atton challenged. "Overloaded our force cages and then made it look like an accident? You probably don't even have the guts to fight me. Heh. Pathetic."

I just stared at the bounty hunter's back. He was completely focused on Atton now, infuriated by the pilot's deliberate outrageousness. Did Atton think he could make the guy mad enough to let him out and have it out? Did he think he could take the man unarmed? Why was he even trying? It seemed to contradict every mode of behavior Atton had demonstrated so far, to risk himself like this.

He almost succeeded in diverting the bounty hunter completely. "Don't think overloading your cages had not occurred to me..." he hissed. Then he hesitated, and looked back at me. "You're wanted alive, but I doubt anyone will care so long as I bring them your corpse."

"We're in the middle of the TSF station," I told him. "How do you think you are possibly going to get away with killing me here?"

The man smiled unpleasantly. "The security cameras have mysteriously shorted out," he said coolly. "There will be no witnesses to your escape attempt, during which time I'll have been forced to kill you. By the time the TSF realizes I'm not one of them, I will be far from this place."

That was different, then, I thought. If the bounty hunter—though assassin might be a better word, Aithne, since he didn't want to bring me in alive—planned to deactivate our force cages before killing us, his butt was covered with the TSF, but my companions and I certainly had a shot. His plan was contingent upon him being able to kill me when he let me out of my force cage—kill me before I took him down or made enough noise that someone came running. Overloading the cages would've been a better idea. But I definitely wasn't going to tell him that. "You want to do this?" I asked. "Fine. Let's do this."

The assassin walked over to the force cage release panel. "Come, Jedi, it is time to die."

Atton banged on his force cage and winced as it shocked him. "Hey, leave her alone—you want a fight? Then try me, if you've got the guts."

The assassin gave Atton a disdainful glance. "You have goaded me once, and you shall not do so twice." He considered, then hit two extra keys on the pad. "But I shall dispose of all of you. An old woman, a fool, and a broken Jedi are no match for my skills."

He pulled the lever. I opened my mouth, and screamed. "Help! Murder!" Then I ran, dropped, and rolled.

I didn't neglect my conditioning in the decade I spent out here. Well—you know. You can't. So though I was unarmed, nearly half a meter shorter and several kilograms lighter than the guy attacking us, he got a bit of a surprise. I was next to him and up under his gun and guard before he knew where I'd gone to. I elbowed him quickly, hard, in the stomach, then brought my hand down on the pressure point in the forearm. I seized his blaster from his suddenly conveniently limp fingers, and tore out the power pack. I knew it would be a bad idea to kill this guy when I was supposed to be in jail. Much better if I could give him to the TSF a prisoner.

I brought the gun up to brain him with, but he'd already flown back several feet and thudded into a wall. I whirled to see Kreia with her single hand outstretched, lips tight with concentration. The assassin leapt up almost immediately, clutching his arm, but Atton had crossed from his force cage. He stomped hard on the man's instep, and with swift, decisive brutality, brought the blade of his hand around straight into the assassin's throat. I heard the guy's windpipe crunch, and he crumpled to the floor.

The door behind us opened, and Lieutenant Grenn ran in. "There was a commotion in here. The security cameras ha—what? What's going on here?" he demanded.

Another two TSF officers ran in. "Man down!" one cried, catching sight of the uniformed assassin on the ground. He ran and knelt beside the body. "Quick, call a medic!"

Lieutenant Grenn had whipped out his blaster, and I stared down the barrel at it, motionless. "All right, Jedi—I want you to back up slowly, hands in front of you, into the force cage," Grenn said. The second officer trained her blaster on Atton. "Cooperate, and we won't have to gun you down," Grenn continued.

"C'mon, Lieutenant," said the crouching officer, beside the assassin. He was angry. "They've already killed—who is this? Is this Batu Rem?"

I snorted, ignoring the tension in Grenn's hand. "If Batu Rem is supposed to be a guard, that's not him. He said he was from the Exchange. Posing as a guard. He tried to assassinate me. It was a good thing we didn't have to rely on you for protection!"

"Rem's no assassin," objected the woman with the blaster on Atton.

"Batu Rem is on leave," Grenn said, lowering his blaster. He walked over to the dead man. "He shouldn't even be on this station." He turned over the corpse. "This man isn't him."

I crossed my arms and glared. "How did he get in here?"

Lieutenant Grenn stood, and holstered his blaster. His officer followed suit. Grenn looked about as angry as I felt now. "That's something we're going to have to look into," he said grimly. "I can tell you that it can't have been easy."

"Do look into it," I said crisply. "Do I still have to go back into the force cage?"

"No," Grenn said. "We've arranged for an apartment in Residential Module 082. You'll stay there under house arrest until our investigation into the Peragus matter is complete. I'll personally clear any visitors to your quarters, and we'll investigate this incident to the best of our ability."

Given that detention areas in the middle of law enforcement offices are supposed to be secure, I wasn't imbued with confidence in the ability of the TSF. I made a small noise of disgust, my reserves of politeness temporarily depleted. "You better. Let's just go."

"Officer, get Lieutenant Yima a report of this incident," Grenn ordered the woman. "She'll look into this. The rest of you, come with me. We'll escort you to that apartment in 082 immediately."

I fell into line behind the Lieutenant once more. Atton and Kreia came up beside me. "Thanks for that, back there."

"It is what I am here for: to teach, and to protect," Kreia said.

"You weren't bad yourself," Atton told me, with something like respect in his face.

I looked at him, then away, trying to make sense of Atton's actions. They didn't add up. He claimed he didn't want to be involved in Kreia and my business, said he wanted to get far away from the people chasing us and leave us to it. Yet the very first bounty hunter we'd run into, and Atton had practically thrown himself in the guy's line of fire, and defended me with deadly force. I couldn't resolve the contradiction, and it made me uncomfortable.

Residential Module 082 was a well-organized, clean block of apartment complexes and small businesses. People quietly went about their business in the corridors. In this section of the space station, beside the plants, there were additional fountains to help take the harshness away from the artificial environment. Lieutenant Grenn led us to the extreme east of the module, to a spacious four-man apartment, though it was barrack-style with just one bedroom. The military regulation bunks were already made up. The kitchenette counters were a comforting shade of yellow. A door to the left led to the fresher.

"Well," I muttered to Kreia. "Whatever you can say for the Telosian Security Force's actual security, they certainly do treat their prisoners well."

"These will serve as your quarters for the duration of your house arrest," Lieutenant Grenn announced unnecessarily. "Two officers will be stationed outside at all times. Again, I'll clear any visitors. There won't be another incident."

"But just to be on the safe side, why don't you leave us a blaster or two?" Atton's request was casual, off-hand.

"Atton."

He shrugged at me. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said.

I looked at the Lieutenant, a little happier with him because of the undeniably nice quarters. "The quarters are lovely, Lieutenant. How long will we be here?"

"I can't say," Grenn told me. "We have a ship examining what's left of the Peragus facility now, so your stay might be brief. We'll keep you informed."

"Well, this is a step up from a force cage, at least," Atton conceded.

"If there are any problems, we'll use the wall terminal to contact you," The Lieutenant told me, pointing at a communications console. He started to leave, but I stepped forward.

"Lieutenant. Before you go. You ought to know—with our gear there are four holo-logs. One belonged to the dock officer on Peragus, one to the administration officer, one to the foreman, and one to a miner named Coorta. The last has been augmented with a log I found on a terminal on the Peragus dormitory level. Your investigation might find the logs informative."

Lieutenant Dol Grenn blinked. "Uh—thank you for your cooperation—er—"

"Darden Leona," I reminded him.

"Yes. We'll look into it." He turned to his officers. "Let's go."

The three of them departed from the apartment. The doors closed behind them, and I heard the click as the mechanism locked. Atton immediately started pacing, as if he'd pent up this energy for hours.

"This isn't good. We've got to get off this station."

His use of the plural threw me for a second. "Uh…why?"

"What do you think the TSF is going to find at Peragus?" Atton demanded. "They could bring the Si—you know what, forget it. As long as we're trapped here, it doesn't matter."

I remembered that Atton Rand had been frightened by the Sith on Peragus. Of course, anyone not Sith with sense was frightened by the Sith. But Atton's fear seemed a little too concrete, a little too focused. It was interesting. But not a problem for the moment. "What do you think, Kreia?" I asked the old woman.

"We cannot stay in any place too long," Kreia conceded. "But our path has brought us here for a reason. I must meditate on this. In the meantime, we should rest."

Atton looked disgusted, and he waved a dismissive hand at Kreia. "Yeah, you go ahead and meditate," he grumbled. "As for me, I could use some sleep."

A couple different times on a couple different planets, I've gotten into some sort of trouble and some form of authority or other has decided that for whatever reason—for standing in the street with a blaster, being human, defending myself, poking my nose around someplace I shouldn't—I ought to be detained. But Telos' Citadel Station was the first time I'd ever been under 'house arrest'. The words have a glamor about them, an exclusivity, a specificity. To be under house arrest is to have caused trouble enough to be confined, but not to be quite bad enough for prison proper. And, Aithne, those quarters were very nice. But after I'd counted the ceiling tiles thirteen times (I still remember there were exactly ninety-six), played solitary pazaak and lost seven times in a row, recited all the poems I knew in my head, and watched Kreia meditate for an hour and a half, I was forced to acknowledge that house arrest is pretty much like normal jail. Boring. And perhaps even more awkward, because instead of being locked in a windowless room by myself, or with several fascinating strangers in varying levels of sobriety, I was locked in a windowless room with two bare acquaintances that hated one another and definitely sober enough to be as miserable as I was about this whole thing.

I was almost really depressed when the communications console rang. I leapt up at the same time Atton did, but my bunk was closer to the console. I beat him to it, and surprised myself by making a face at him to celebrate my victory. Well, I was very bored. I accepted the call.

It was one of the TSF officers outside my room. "Excuse me—"she said, politely and diffidently. "You have a caller, Moza, representing the Ithorian planet restoration efforts on Telos. Lieutenant Grenn's cleared him, if you'd like to speak with him."

I wondered how Moza had known I'd be here to visit. "What does he want?"

"He says he wishes to speak with you on behalf of Chodo Habat," said the officer. "That's all he will say."

I tapped my finger on the console. Strangers were all looking shifty just then, what with assassins after me and being under suspicion for the destruction of Peragus II. On the other hand, I was very, _very_ bored. And Ithorians are generally known as pacifists. I looked over at Kreia, motionless and silent on the floor, and figured that if she wasn't alarmed, I shouldn't be, either. "Sure, send him in," I told the officer.

"Very well. I'll let him in now."

The door opened. Kreia opened her eyes. Atton stopped wearing a hole in the floor with his feet. The Ithorian entered. He was young-looking, for an Ithorian, dressed simply, as is their wont. He bowed. /Thank you for seeing me,/ he said. /I am Moza, and I have come to see you on behalf of Chodo Habat, our leader here./

I bowed in acknowledgment. "Can I get you something to drink?" Without waiting for an answer, I moved toward the kitchenette, grateful for something to do.

/I would appreciate water. My thanks./

I found a glass in an overhead cabinet, and filled it with water from the tap. Crossing the floor again, I handed it to Moza the Ithorian. "Please, sit down."

Okay, no, Aithne—I never did take things to your extreme of learning to _actually speak_ every language under the sun. Can't believe _that_ craziness carried over. Don't look at me like that, it's time consuming. I can speak Huttese, Mandalorian, and Basic, and understand about twelve other languages. For my purposes, that's enough.

I swung myself up onto the bunk I'd claimed for myself and Moza, for want of better seating, sat down on the end of the bunk opposite. "I'm Darden, that's Kreia, that's Atton," I said, indicating each of my companions in turn. "But I guess you know that, if you came to visit. Why are you here on behalf of your leader? Why didn't Chodo Habat come himself?"

/As our leader he has many tasks before him, and regrets that he could not come himself,/ Moza said. His long, rounded fingers twiddled, and I knew I'd made him nervous. /The healing of the planet consumes all his time. He means no offense by sending me, his chief assistant./

"Sure. But what does he want with me?"

Moza took a sip of his water. /Are you familiar with the restoration project on Telos?/ he asked after a long moment.

Of course, I hadn't, and I was forced to say so. Moza looked much happier, and I recalled that Ithorians are by nature an indirect species, and that my forthrightness might have been setting Moza on edge. It's a long climb uphill, learning to relate to others again after years of avoiding them.

/The surface of Telos was destroyed during the Jedi Civil War a few years ago,/ he explained. /This-Citadel Station—is a part of the Republic's planetary restoration initiative. Citadel Station uses energy fields to seal off portions of the planet's surface, then generates and controls the weather patterns over each area. Once the weather in a zone is stabilized, new animal and plant life is introduced to restore the ecosystem. Recently, however, we have run into contention with the corporation known as Czerka. Perhaps you have heard of our recent troubles?/

I started to see where this was going. "No," I answered. "Tell me."

/Ithorians are well known as ecologists and agricultural engineers,/ Moza continued. /The Telosian government asked those of my herd to help restore their planet. Things went smoothly at first. The Republic funded us generously, hoping Telos would be a model for the restoration of planets damaged by the war. The funding enabled us to purchase flora and fauna from Onderon. Upgrades to Citadel Station's shield network have allowed us to purify and reseed small portions of the surface."

Moza paused, and I gestured for him to continue.

/Then the troubles began,/ he said. /Republic relations with Onderon began to deteriorate, increasing the purchase and transport costs of our biological materials, and as the station grew, the Telosian Security Force was no longer large enough to police the entire station./

An overstretched TSF made sense considering what I had witnessed since landing. Moza had caught my attention. He went on, /Czerka approached the Republic and offered supply and security contracts. Their paramilitary security division now polices two-thirds of Citadel Station. Czerka has integrated themselves into the Telosian political system and economy. They are currently pressing to be awarded our planetary restoration contracts. Their efforts hinder our cause greatly, and will have terrible consequences for the planet's restoration./

Moza took another drink. I stared at the floor, thinking hard. Wariness of Czerka I understood. Out here, you can't avoid developing a healthy suspicion of the company. As a business, Czerka exists first and foremost for its own profit. I've had run-ins with their slave trade out here once or twice, and I knew they aren't fussy who they sell to or who they aid. So therefore, I could understand how it might be a bad idea for Czerka to police two-thirds of Citadel Station. On the other hand, Czerka undoubtedly had a lot of resources that could be invaluable to the restoration effort. As Moza set it out, it was tantamount to understand exactly what Czerka was threatening. "I see," I said slowly. "How exactly is Czerka harming the restoration project?"

/Czerka recently wrested control of a number of Restoration Zones on the planet's surface from us,/ Moza answered. /These zone began to deteriorate in weeks. If this continues, the restoration process will be brought to a halt, and the Republic will not be willing to continue the funding to resurrect it. Telos will remain dead forever./

I tapped my fingers on the bedframe. "How is Czerka acquiring the Restoration Zones?"

/Through a combination of legal loopholes, purchased political favors, strong-arm tactics and sabotage,/ Moza reported. I frowned. The report wasn't encouraging; it sounded like Czerka was working mostly through corrupt channels, but legally nonetheless. Moza was obviously here to solicit my help on the Ithorians' behalf, but if Czerka was as big on Citadel Station as he represented, dealing with them could be problematic.

Moza spread his arms. /We Ithorians are simply not prepared to deal with such. We are a passive people…we wish only to help restore the natural beauty of Telos./

The implication was troubling. I folded my arms. Moza was basically saying that the Ithorians could not, or would not, deal with Czerka's bullying and profit-minded policies on Citadel that would harm the restoration project in the long run, but I could deal with them. He was saying that the Ithorians were a passive people, and implying that I could fight their battles. "How exactly does Chodo Habat expect me to help?" I asked.

/Chodo Habat is a powerful priest,/ Moza told me. /Our spiritual leader. He sensed something upon your arrival. A disturbance, an echo in the Force. Chodo felt you might be able to aid us. He bid me tell you that if you could help heal Telos, it might be possible for him to heal you./

Kreia, listening, suddenly frowned. But all of a sudden I was incredibly intrigued. If Chodo Habat was a Force adept, and could sense my disconnection to the Force—if he was offering to heal me, perhaps I was one step closer to severing whatever bond held me to Kreia and endangered us both. "What do you mean?" I asked Moza.

/I am unclear as to what Chodo means by this,/ Moza admitted. /He says the echo he felt upon your arrival suggest that you yourself are damaged. He can feel the pain through the Force./

"Perhaps Chodo Habat should turn his eyes to his own people, if they truly suffer so," Kreia interjected icily. I turned, taken aback by her coldness. Weren't we both looking for someone to heal my connection to the Force? Or was Kreia only on board for healing me if she herself did the healing?

/Forgive me,/ Moza said, bowing to the old woman. /I am unclear as to Chodo's message, and may have related it incorrectly./ He turned back to me. /If this offer of mutual aid interests you, please go to the Ithorian compound here in Residential 082. Chodo Habat would be most happy to see you./

I couldn't get Kreia's hostility out of my head. I glanced back at Moza, and bowed without rising from my seat. "I—I will consider it," I said, slowly, watching Kreia from the corner of my eye. There was an iron wall in the back of my head blocking my connection to her emotions, and she was scowling.

Moza rose. /I hope so,/ he said, bowing again. /Farewell./

He left, and the door closed, and locked behind him again. We were left again to our boredom, but with a little more to think about. I scooted around so I faced Kreia's bunk, about to ask her why she seemed so averse to the idea of Chodo Habat helping me if I helped him, but Kreia wasn't having it. "Now perhaps we will be able to rest uninterrupted," she said stonily.

Atton had been about to say something, too, but Kreia's tone shut him down as quickly as it shut me down. He looked hard at me, though, and I could see the curiosity in his gaze. Then I was just as happy Kreia didn't want to talk. I didn't want to field Atton's questions about why I might be damaged and require healing, on why I hadn't felt the Force for years until three days ago.

We didn't get to rest uninterrupted as Kreia hoped. About seventeen hundred hours, not two hours after Moza's visit, the communications console rang again. The sound woke me from a light doze, and I went over.

I'd expected to see the TSF on the display, calling to communicate about the investigation, or to ask me if I wanted to see another random 'caller'. Instead, however, the display read: 'Czerka Corporation: Accept? Deny?'

I frowned. Lieutenant Grenn had promised he would screen all callers. I'd been under the impression that he'd been referring to all communications, not merely physical visitors. That Czerka could obtain my contact information and get access to call without first going through the TSF was another hole in security. Nevertheless, I accepted the call.

A droid came up on the display. It was a protocol droid. Not a fake-protocol-but-really-assassin droid like HK-50, but a real, honest-to-goodness and annoying as hell protocol droid. "I am B-4D4," it said in that ridiculously prim tenor so many protocol droids are programmed with. "Administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station Branch. I am attempting to connect you with Executive Officer Jana Lorso. May I put you through?"

"You may."

"Thank you, I will connect you now," the droid said. "Good day."

The screen switched to a visual of a dark-haired human woman with a tattooed coronet on her forehead. She smiled at me, but her eyes had the permanently hard, evaluative stare of the cutthroat businessperson. "Thank you for accepting my call," she said in a crisp, professional voice. "As my assistant no doubt informed you, I am Jana Lorso."

"Yeah, we did that," I told her, waving my hand. "I'm Darden Leona, but you know that, too. Why are you calling?" Atton, off to the side, smiled a bit at my abruptness.

"I understand that you were approached by an Ithorian earlier," Jana Lorso said. "Doubtless he tried to obtain your help attempting to purchase it with imposed guilt and veiled threats."

I paused. Czerka was worried. That was interesting. It meant that whatever their operations were, they were fragile enough that they thought I could tip them. They didn't want me allied against them. "I was approached by an Ithorian," I replied neutrally.

"I believe you're a person of influence," Ms. Lorso said directly. "Someone I'd like on my side, rather than aiding the Ithorians whose quasi-mysticism and bumbling foolishness is standing in the way of progress, and profit. I'm not asking for your help, though. I'm offering you a job. Work for Czerka, and be handsomely rewarded. You'd be helping yourself. If you're interested, please visit our offices here in Residential 082. B-4D4 will know what to do when you arrive."

I was unimpressed. "What sort of work did you have in mind?"

"I'd rather discuss that in person," Jana Lorso told me. "I'll be more than happy to answer any and all questions when you visit our offices."

I'd been uncertain of Moza's assertions of the illegality of Czerka's operations on Telos, but this call was supporting the Ithorian's representation of the situation, I thought as I contemplated how to answer. The Ithorian-bashing, the reluctance to discuss the business proposal over the console, calling our room when all communications were supposed to be screened by the TSF—it all indicated that Czerka was into something shady, or at least that they were more out for profit than they were out for Telos. However, I was well aware that the Lorso woman's protocol-jargon and my past experiences might be coloring my reactions. I decided on the spot that it'd be better to go and hear Lorso out, at least. If Czerka was up to something that would jeopardize what the Republic was trying to do to heal Telos it'd be the only way I could find out. If they were genuinely trying to help, however, I was obligated as a person whose aid had been sought by both conflicting parties to consider both sides of the question.

"I'll come by when I can," I told Ms. Lorso.

Jana Lorso smiled widely. "Excellent! Good luck with that messy investigation, and I hope to see you shortly."

The line went dead, and I crossed back to my bunk. Atton was playing solitary pazaak on his bunk catty-corner from mine. He raised a single eyebrow at me, but he didn't comment on my decision to hear out two different people groups that wanted to get me involved on Telos, when I was supposed to be trying to leave. He only said, "You should eat something and get back to bed. Whenever they decide to release us, we should get going immediately."

He didn't qualify as to where we'd go, which I appreciated. I waved him off, but went to the kitchenette anyway. I cooked up some synthesized pasta—at least, it looked like pasta and tasted something like pasta—more like pasta than this stuff, anyway. I ate it and drank some water, but I couldn't go to sleep like Atton had suggested.

I got out my own pazaak deck. Having already lost solitary pazaak more times than I had patience with, I decided to try to build a house with the cards instead of play a game. However, this proved just as fruitless of an endeavor, as I kept fidgeting and knocking over all the cards every forty-five seconds.

I didn't really understand why I wanted to help with the Telosian Restoration Project. It probably would be smarter, I reflected, to merely resupply and get gone the second after they let us out of lockdown, especially with the Sith after me. But despite myself, I found that my desire to help this rebuilding world was strong. As I stacked and restacked cards, I caught myself making plans to stay a few days. Maybe a few weeks. I left more than one world in ruins behind me, in the Mandalorian Wars. I ripped one planet entirely apart. But sitting there on the bunk in the apartment on Telos, I couldn't recall ever having helped rebuild a world before. I knocked my fifth construction attempt down irritably and fell to my side amidst the card wreckage. Why hadn't I helped rebuild before?

Of course, with the Sith and the Exchange after me, Kreia and I were both in danger. I didn't know if the two of us were on a journey to outrun the Sith, or on a journey to find the Jedi when I was supposed to be the last one, but either way, I couldn't get caught in a fight when both of us were still so vulnerable, and the longer I stayed, the greater the chances were that a fight would find me. I couldn't stay long, no matter how much I wanted to. And I knew whatever I ended up doing, I'd have to be acquitted of the destruction of Peragus before I did it. Restlessly, I rolled to face the ceiling and started counting the ninety-six tiles a seventeenth time.

* * *

_ "There are seventy-two in here," Aithne said. "I can't tell you how many times I've been stuck when the only thing I've wanted to do is move—either across planet or off-world."_

_ "Sometimes the harder thing—the braver thing—is to stay," Darden remarked, curiously avoiding looking at Aithne. "I didn't have to go into Exile, you know. I mean, Exile from the Order, sure. I had to turn in my lightsaber and all that. But the Jedi let me go to go wherever I wanted. I didn't have to run away from the Republic and keep running. That was all on me."_

_ "I wonder what would've happened if you'd stayed," Aithne said, a little sadly. "If you could've maybe—"_

_ "No," Darden cut her off brutally. "I tried reasoning with you and Alek both. It didn't work, and it wouldn't have, either. Malachor V destroyed any strength I might have had to oppose you, and you were always far stronger than me, anyway." _

_ "But you could've stayed. Would you have fought?" Aithne asked._

_ "No," Darden answered. "I couldn't have opposed you and the others, but I wouldn't have borne arms against the Republic and the Jedi, either. Truthfully, it's probably for the best that I left the Republic."_

_ "I would've hounded you until you chose a side, and you would've been destroyed," Aithne said, her face lined with guilt and regret. "Assassinated or fallen, it made no difference to me then, so I've heard."_

_ The smaller woman looked over at the taller. "It's not quite true, you know," she said. "I told you I wouldn't join you, I defied you to your face, even though I wouldn't—couldn't—fight you at that point. You let me go. You even stopped Alek—well, Malak—from attacking me. He said that if I wasn't with you, I was an enemy. You disagreed. You said it didn't matter if I left, that I couldn't pose a threat to you after—after what happened. But lately I've wondered if you weren't showing me mercy."_

_ Aithne looked pensive. "I don't know," she said. "I really don't. I wish I did. I'd love to believe it, but I'm just not sure. What would you have done, if you didn't fight?"_

_ Darden shifted. "I've learned to stop asking that question," she said. "'What could I have done differently?' The fact is, I _didn't_. _You_ didn't. We made the choices we made, and they made us who we are now. We have to live with that, but we can change the way we act in the future. If I have learned that sometimes it's good to take time to clean up the mess I make, then in the future, I can choose to do so. If I learn—if I learn a different kind of bravery than leading battles is required of me—a _different_ kind—I can choose to exercise it." Darden's voice tapered off, and she looked away again. "Shall I continue?" _

_ Aithne nodded._

* * *

We were shut up for that night and most of the next day, but at about 1600 hours the day after our arrest, Lieutenant Grenn came back to the apartment. The doors opened and I turned from where I'd been standing on the floor, contemplating running head-on as fast as I could into the wall. I bowed. He bowed back, and smiled. "I've come to inform you that the Telosian government has completed its inspection of what's left of the Peragus facility. It appears another Republic vessel—the _Harbinger_—had been present, though it was gone when our ships arrived. It was responsible for the station's destruction. Logs from the mining station recovered from your gear indicated that the miner's perished as a result of sabotage, which began while you and your companions were either incapacitated or incarcerated. As such, you are to be released from house arrest."

Honestly, I was so relieved to be let out I could have wrung the man's hand right off, but before I could thank Grenn he held his hand up. "However—the Republic is sending its own ship," he added. "They have insisted you remain on-station for the duration of their search."

Suddenly feeling much less like celebrating, I stopped halfway to Grenn. I reflected that I really ought to have expected this. "And how long will that be?"

"The _Sojourn_ is already en route," Grenn said. "Likely not more than a few standard days. Feel free to use these quarters during your stay."

"Thank you," I responded appropriately. I hesitated, then asked. "Is the _Ebon Hawk_ still impounded?" I kept my face carefully neutral. Grenn looked suspicious anyway.

But he answered, "The vessel's I&D is complete. You may visit the TSF station in Entertainment Module 081 to complete the necessary paperwork at the front desk. The _Ebon Hawk_ should be transferred from the impound docks by the time you're free to leave."

If they were giving me my ship back, then it wasn't necessarily expected for me to leave with the Republic when they arrived. That was promising. It indicated that the Republic might leave me to my own devices. I assimilated the information. "And my T3 droid?"

"After filling out the paperwork, it'll be transferred with your ship, along with your confiscated weapons and armor," Lieutenant Grenn promised. He bowed again, and left. The guards went with him. And this time, when the door shut behind the TSF, it didn't lock.

Atton had been lounging on his bunk. Now he stood, and stretched like a malraas after a nap. He folded his arms and looked at me. "Well, now what?" he prompted. "We can't just stick around. We need to find a way off this station, whether it's the _Ebon Hawk_ or some other ship. We could hit Nar Shaddaa, maybe." He looked thoughtful. "If you've got people coming after you, it's where you go to get lost in a crowd."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "And you would know?"

He raised his hands. "Hey, everyone needs to get lost once in a while. Get away from something, you know? It's no big deal."

I glanced over at Kreia. "Well?" I asked her.

She stood more easily than you'd expect a woman with a recently cut-off hand could. "It is difficult to say," Kreia answered. "I feel we came to Telos for a reason, but we may have spent too much time here already. Even if the _Harbinger_ was destroyed at Peragus, more Sith could already be on their way." She spread her single hand, however, indicating her openness to the options. "Still, there is a chance we might learn of other Jedi here, on the planet's surface. Jedi who might help us restore your abilities or sever the link between us."

Chodo Habat, of course, had offered to do something that might amount to that, if we helped him, too, but Kreia said nothing of him.

Atton was still watching me. "Well? What do you think?"

Apparently because I was the one the Sith were after and the one's whose abilities were in need of restoration, it was my call. I didn't really like that. I'd avoided responsibility for anyone and anything after the Mandalorian Wars, and it felt too much like I'd just been handed it again. I looked at the floor. "I think—whether we find something here or not, I don't want to be stuck here. We need a ship. Let's go get the _Ebon Hawk_," I said finally.

Kreia nodded. Atton shrugged. "Makes sense. I'll follow your lead."

I frowned. Since the house arrest had been lifted there was really nothing keeping Atton from doing whatever the hell he wanted, and it struck me as odd that he didn't seem to realize it yet. I shrugged, however, and went to open the apartment.

We left the apartment block and headed west, along the tree-beds, benches and fountains of Residential 082, between the neat and labeled entrances to different apartment complexes and sets of offices. Telosians and off-world traders walked the thoroughfare in pairs and trios, chatting to one another. The high ceiling was glass-plated, so if you looked up, you could see the stars, and the lights of incoming and outgoing ships.

As we headed toward the shuttle line to Entertainment 081, I looked a little ways down the thoroughfare, and saw a teal green sign reading 'Czerka Enterprises'. I fell back next to Kreia. "It's too late today to do much more than fill out the paperwork to retrieve the ship, Teethree, and our equipment," I told her. "But tomorrow I want to go see Czerka. And the Ithorians."

"Why have you chosen this path?" Kreia asked.

"I don't want to leave the second we're let out and risk setting the Republic after us, too, along with the Sith and the Exchange," I explained. "If we can spare the time, I think it'd be a good idea to see what's going on here. If we go places and talk to people it'll be easier to hear about any Jedi, and, anyway, I think Chodo Habat meant he sensed my disconnection to the Force when he talked about damage to Moza. Ithorians aren't Jedi, but some of them can feel and use the Force. If he can help…"

"His help will not come without fee," Kreia warned me.

"I know."

"Have a care how you entangle yourselves in the operations of this world," she persisted. "We cannot stay. Your guilt hampers you, imprisons you more surely than our quarters did these two days past."

"Maybe so," I admitted quietly. "Maybe helping Telos is the key to the prison."

Kreia sniffed. "You know so little. Yet, there is some truth to what you say. We cannot hope to find if we do not first look. Tonight I shall meditate on our course."

"That's all I ask. Thanks for thinking about it."

Without the TSF escort, it was easier to get a feel for Citadel Station. My perceptions in the Force were still fuzzy at best, but my eyes still told me a great deal. As the shuttle to Entertainment 081 zipped down the line, I could see over 100 modules spanning over a vast, curved disc that was the station. The station was neat, efficient. The people here were excited, hopeful about their future. But there was also tension. Even on the shuttle car, there were too many people in armor around, people carrying Czerka-issue weaponry and walking with the hard faces and swaggering gait of hired mercs. More than once in the corridors and lanes back in 082, too, I had heard reference to troubles on Onderon, skyrocketing prices, and the destruction of the Peragus fuel station.

Frowning, I leaned over to Atton, sitting beside me on the shuttle. "Atton—Peragus. They provided the fuel for this station to run, didn't they?"

Atton glanced at me sidewise. "Yeah—why did you think I didn't want to come here after what went down there?" he asked me. "If they'd decided we had blown up that station—"he let out a low whistle. "Well. Let's just say I'm glad they didn't."

"But how are they going to keep running?" I asked, looking around at the breadth, the complexity of the station. "The Restoration, the people here. What are they going to do?"

He shrugged. "They'll have to find a new fuel source, won't they? At a good price, too. Don't think they have a lot of credits to spare around here, or they'd ratchet up security. If they don't find a new fuel source, though, eventually they'll have to shut down."

The shuttle stopped, and we stepped off into the bustling and brightly lit Entertainment 082. I looked around at several smiling citizens, on their way to chill out for a few hours in the cantina after work, and felt a sudden rush of guilt. If I hadn't been on Peragus, the Sith would never have had occasion to blow it up, It _wasn't _my fault, but it was indisputable that if I hadn't been there Citadel Station would be much better off now.

Atton seemed to pick up on my anxiety as we traced the path Grenn had taken us down before back to the TSF office. "Hey—don't worry about them, okay?" he said, a little uncomfortably. "You've got your own problems."

"Yeah, problems that caused their problems," I muttered, as we entered the TSF office.

There was another standard protocol droid at the desk. "Welcome to Entertainment Module 081's TSF station," it said. "How may I be of assistance?"

"My name is Darden Leona," I said clearly. "I was told I could get my ship and possessions out of impound here?"

"I will call up the appropriate information now," the droid said. "One moment…" Its visual sensors went dark as it accessed the TSF database. I could hear the motivators clicking along. "Searching…one moment." The clicking stopped. The droid's sensors came back on. Its central processor moved first to one side, then the other. Its wrist rotated all the way around three times. It looked about as nervous as a droid can, and a nasty, horrible feeling dropped like a stone into my stomach.

"I regret to inform you that the _Ebon Hawk_ is gone," the droid said. "The TSF believes it was stolen and is currently investigating."

For a moment, all I could do was gape. "Stolen," I managed at last. "Just how could that have happened?"

The answer was discouraging. "It seems the _Ebon Hawk_ was transferred to Telos' surface instead of an impound dock. However, both the requester and the point of delivery are unknown. In addition, the vessel is not showing up at any government sanctioned landing site. I would conjecture that it has been stolen and that the TSF records have been illegally accessed and modified."

The droid said all this very fast. Kreia came up beside me. Atton, however, brought his hand down hard on the desk, thumping it loudly. "I knew it!" he cried. "That stupid Teethree unit stole our ship! It's probably joyriding through the system right now, laughing at us…laughing at me!"

The accusation that a droid had committed the theft broke right through the protocol droid's nerves, and its tone changed to one of annoyance. "That is unlikely. While your utility droid is not accounted for, numerous satellites track all incoming and outgoing vessels. There is no record of the _Ebon Hawk_ leaving the system."

Before the droid had been spouting vagaries, but this was concrete solid information, and Atton's tone changed so completely, so fast, that I was almost certain that however much he disliked droids, the accusation against T3-M4 had been made expressly to get it. "Wait. You're saying the ship's actually somewhere on Telos' surface?" he demanded. "I don't understand. Telos' atmosphere is highly corrosive outside the shielded Restoration Zones. Where else could somebody land safely?"

The droid started to look nervous again, realizing it had been tricked into giving more information than it intended to an unofficial and ununiformed party that hadn't submitted a request in writing. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's all the information I have for you. Of course, the quarters in Residential Module 082 will remain yours until the situation is resolved."

I spread my hands on the desk, leaning forward. "Was there anything else in the system about our ship?" I practically begged.

"There was a query regarding the _Ebon Hawk'_s ID signature sent from the Peragus mining facility," the droid told me. "However, all data collected in response to the request has been deleted. It is likely that this information was removed when the vessel's transfer request was modified."

I looked at Kreia and Atton, composing myself with difficulty. "Right. Complications. More of them. Look, can we at least get our stuff back?" I asked the droid.

The droid brightened then. "Fortunately, your possessions were kept in the armory and were uncompromised," it reported happily. "I will open the door for you so that you may retrieve them. You will find them in the security lockers."

"And what are we supposed to do then?"

"I am not qualified to answer that question," the droid said. "However, it is unlikely that someone could steal a starship from under TSF observation without considerable backing. If your vessel has been stolen, there is a fair chance that the Exchange possesses relevant information. I do not know what else to suggest, beyond waiting in your quarters for further word."

The word 'Exchange' had sent a chill over me. Kreia, beside me, was very still. Atton looked at me apprehensively. "The Exchange," I repeated. "They're here?"

"They are trying to gain a foothold in the Citadel," the droid related, seemingly happy to be helpful. "Most likely seeking to integrate themselves as fully as possible with the new Telos. It is rumored that the Bumani Exchange Corporation, located in Residential Module 082, is the front for the Exchange on Citadel Station."

So not only were the Exchange a real and present threat, they were our neighbors. "Force, we really do need to get out of here," I said under my breath. "Look, isn't there anything more the TSF can do?" I asked the droid.

"Not beyond investigating the matter and extending our offer of free room and board," it replied regretfully.

"Well that's something at least," I said, a little bitterly. "Thank you for the information."

The door off to the side opened, and we were permitted to pass into the armory. The first two lockers in the bank were unsecured. Atton and I retrieved our packs with all our weapons, food, and credits. I noticed that the holo-logs from Peragus were no longer in my pack, however.

"So," Atton said, swinging his bag over his shoulders. "What're we going to do?"

"It could be a stall," I answered him, quietly so the TSF officer working late in the next room didn't hear me. "I think Grenn knew when I asked about the ship that I wasn't all for waiting in my quarters like a good girl for the Republic to get here."

"What, like they fed the droid bad information and have really got the _Hawk _hidden away someplace until the Republic gets here? I don't think so," Atton said. "These guys are way too on the level for that, especially Grenn."

"No," Kreia agreed. "This interference comes from a different source."

"It could be the Exchange," I speculated. "Cutting me off from escape and stealing a good freighter into the bargain."

Atton shrugged dismissively. "I still think it was that trash compactor of yours. Never trust a droid." He started out of the station, back toward the shuttle.

"Teethree's all right," I objected. "I hope he's okay. I don't really think it was the Exchange, either, though. I think that guy from the other day—the one that pretended to be Batu Rem? I think he was working alone. There'll be further attempts, but stealing the _Ebon Hawk_ isn't one of them. No," I said, making up my mind. "You're right, Kreia, this is something else."

"But what are we going to do?" Atton asked again. "We can't be stuck here."

I decided I needed to have a one-on-one talk with Atton about how he had suddenly decided he was okay with the word 'we', when he so definitively hadn't been before. But for now I just said, "There's always a way out, remember? It'll just be…more complicated, is all."

* * *

_ "You really didn't see it, did you?" Aithne asked, amused. "Darden Leona, you are a complete stranger to Aithne Morrigan, and yet I will be up all night listening to this story and might get on your ship with the crew you still haven't completely told me about tomorrow to go Force knows where. People follow you. I bet that's why I promoted you in the Mandalorian Wars. Anyone with a soldier's background or training would have trouble not following your lead and moving to help you if they were thrown together in close proximity with you. It's the way you carry yourself; who you are to lead, whether you liked it just then or not."_

_ Aithne looked thoughtful then. "You've described Atton as an ace pilot with a good working knowledge of the galaxy at large. Our age, or just a year or two younger. He has his freak outs in freaky situations, but he's no coward, either. Given all that, it wouldn't surprise me if Atton had fought in one or both wars in some capacity or other, even on a freelance basis for some crime-lord seeking to profit. But there was more going on than an ex-soldier's response to a natural leader, too." She raised an eyebrow and elbowed Darden a little. _

_ "I wasn't blind," Darden objected, a little defensively. "Yeah—Atton was identifying more and more with me, acting like he expected to continue on with me and Kreia. But he'd been crystal clear before that he wanted out, didn't want anything to do with the Sith chasing us. So sue me if I was a little confused! I decided to talk to him as soon as we got back to the apartment about it…_

* * *

**Coming 5/5: Darden continues her tale. As she tells of her adventures on Telos, of her growing relationships with Atton and Kreia, and how she grew in the Force, **_**Aithne's**_** growing knowledge of Darden begins to trigger buried memories…**

**Look, I've got most of this story already written. But I am revising as I continue on based on what I hear from you. Except I'm not hearing anything. I just finished collecting all the game data I need to finish the novelization, so the story will be completed. But please, just so I know all the work I've done on this wasn't completely in vain, leave a review on your way out. Even to tell me that I need to change fifty different things or it was a lot better before. Whatever. Just let me know. **

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	8. VII

**Disclaimer: "Dis-" is a negative prefix that opposes the word it is attached to, changing its meaning.**

* * *

VII.

Well-Intentioned Meddling

_ "I actually had my first run-in with the mercs before I even started with Czerka or the Ithorians. A couple of Czerka mercs somewhat the worse for drink were harassing the Sullistan outside the cantina in 081. When they started talking about breaking his legs, I got involved, and the others helped me knock the two guys out so they could sleep it off. I whistled a TSF officer over and acquainted him with the situation, but it was still almost 1900 hours before we got back to the apartment in Residential Module 082. Kreia had sat down to meditate immediately._

I'd taken out my blaster and the spare parts I'd gotten off Peragus and the Harbinger, grateful for something to do, but Atton kept watching me. It was hard to focus. Finally, I looked up. Atton's blue eyes flicked over to Kreia, sitting as still as a rock at the foot of her bed and about as attentive. Atton made a face. I tried not to smile, but Atton caught that I was trying and grinned. I sighed, giving up on the blaster. What has to be done is best done now, after all. So I repacked the blaster and jerked my head at the door. I left without disturbing Kreia.

Atton caught on quick. A few moments later, he'd caught up with me halfway down the Residential 082 eastern corridor. "What is it?"

"You're confusing me," I told him. "I don't know if you'd noticed, but we're not under arrest anymore." I glanced over at him, waiting.

"Still trapped here, though."

I raised an eyebrow. "_I'm_ trapped here," I corrected him. "The Republic's coming for _me_. Czerka, the Ithorians, the Exchange, the Sith—whether they want me dead or on the payroll, it's me they want. Last Jedi in the galaxy—whether or not I actually am a Jedi—it'd be a nightmare trying to find a shuttle stupid enough to take me on. Same goes for Kreia. Handicapped blind woman her age is going to have a hard time finding work. We have to stay together anyway."

Atton slowed the pace a little. "Why?" he asked, after a moment.

"I think the only reason I can feel the Force at all now is because of the bond we've formed," I explained. "She says she'll teach me to do better, and I can sense things stronger than I could three days ago, but I still need her."

"Wait a minute," Atton said. "She said you guys were looking for someone to sever your bond. Why would you want to do that, if it's helping you?"

He waited. For a moment, I debated whether I should tell him or not. Then, I threw my hands up. "What the hell," I said. "I'll trust you. Remember back on Peragus, in the fuel line? I sensed it when her hand got cut off."

"Yeah," Atton said, frowning.

"I kept saying I was fine. I wasn't," I confessed. "When her hand got cut off, it felt like my hand had been dipped in molten carbonite. Those first few seconds I almost passed out. I built a wall in my head so I could keep going, but I could feel her pain that entire evening. It gave me quite a bad headache, actually, trying to shut it out. I talked to her about it—neither of us has ever heard of anything like it—but she thinks that if one of us is hurt worse, maybe—"I trailed off, letting Atton make the conclusion.

He swore softly. "You _have_ to take care of that," he said, with feeling. "Tied to that—"he cut off. "So. You're stuck with her. What's your point?"

"You're not stuck with us, that's the point," I told him. "Look, Atton. You're not the last Jedi in the galaxy. You've got all your limbs, a blaster, and if we split up what we scrounged on Peragus, you've got a couple hundred credits. You could buy passage out of here. Or get a job. Whatever. _You're_ not stuck."

Atton thrust his hands into his pockets. "Guess not. You that keen to get rid of me, sweetheart?"

He was obviously hurt. I sighed. "That's not what I meant. I just don't get it. Four days ago, you were all 'enough with the we, already,' and 'I was better off in my cell,' and I didn't blame you. I'm in way over my head here, and getting out is smart. But now, no one's using the word 'we' more than you. Are you sticking around or not?"

Atton looked away, shrugged. Given his lanky height and that his hands were still in his pockets, it gave him a momentary resemblance to a large, dark, flightless bird. "I just figure I owe you one, is all. If it hadn't been for you, I'd be starving back in that cell on Peragus—or blown up. Who knows? And it's not like I've got anything better to do. Not that I care what happens to you or anything, but I guess I could at least help you find a way off Citadel."

I stared at him. I bought his ambivalence even less than I had on Peragus. "_Right_."

He glanced at me, then laughed. "You could stand to loosen up a little, you know," he told me. "For someone that's _not a Jedi_, you sure spend a lot of time acting like one, Darden."

"Habit, I guess. I was a Jedi for twenty years. Since I was four years old. I've only not been one for ten. And it wasn't like I _decided_ to leave the Order."

Atton opened his mouth. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask again who I was, what I'd done, what had happened. But he seemed to rethink it, and he didn't say anything. I smiled, and turned around so we were heading back toward the apartment. "Thank you," I told him.

"If you ever do feel like telling me," Atton offered. "Not like I'm not dying to know." He moved sideways a little, so his arm almost brushed my shoulder. His voice dropped suggestively. "Or if you ever want to loosen up—stop acting like a Jedi, since you're _not_ one. I'd be _more_ than happy to give you a few pointers."

He winked. I kept my gaze straight ahead, and moved sideways myself to put distance between us again. Atton was silent a moment. "Or not," he muttered. "That's fine, too."

The silence stretched like a rubber band between us. Atton's ears were red and he stared at the ground. His tone had been light. I'd thought he'd been joking, trying to get a reaction out of the Jedi, but now I wondered if he'd meant the questions he hadn't asked more seriously than he hadn't posed them. Atton seemed more honest than Kreia, but I was starting to realize that he still rarely said what he really meant. I felt unaccountably guilty about his embarrassment and hurt, and that made me a little angry. I kicked at the floor as the awkward rubber band of stretched silence pulled at me.

Finally I said, "I saw you playing pazaak in the apartment. You any good?"

"I'm all right," he replied. "We could play a game, if you like. Don't fancy wagering our credits, though, so it'd have to be Republic Senate rules."

I smiled at the slang for a practice game. "Nobody wins, everybody loses?" I quoted back at him.

"Exactly," Atton grinned. "But it'll pass the time. I'd suggest we make things more interesting and play Nar Shaddaa rules—"

"No," I interrupted.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Atton said. "I get it, okay? Besides, I don't care to strip for the old witch. Do you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," I said. "That's okay, then. Republic Senate rules?"

"You're on."

The next morning, I felt better. Though the _Ebon Hawk_ was stolen, and I had a lethal Force bond with a strange old woman with unfathomable motives, and half the galaxy was after me, for some reason I wasn't reeling. At least, I thought, I wasn't in prison anymore. I had places to go, and people to go places with. And I was starting to come around to the idea of others. I felt the Force humming in the back of my mind, like a half-remembered song just before you remember how to sing it. It drifted like a current through Citadel Station.

I decided to make breakfast with the apartment-issue cookware and the food provided by the TSF. There was fresh fruit, some freeze-dried flat cakes I was able to warm up, even some meat. The meat was sizzling in the pan when Kreia woke up.

"Ah. You feel it, this morning. The Force flowing through you. Have you chosen a path?"

"I thought we'd go see Czerka first. They're closer to us, anyway, and I figure I'd rather deal with them now when I'm not likely to start shooting them than later when I might not be feeling so generous," I told her.

"You are suspicious of their motives. That is good. You are keeping your eyes open, your mind alert."

I shrugged. "I know their kind. It's fishy that they were able to reach us in this room when we were under house arrest and all calls and visits were supposed to be screened by the TSF. It's suspicious that they knew who I was and that the Ithorians had already approached me—they certainly didn't sense it with the Force like Chodo Habat. It's outright suspect that the Lorso woman wouldn't tell me what she wanted me to do for them over the line and wanted me to show up in person." I flipped the meat out of the pan and onto a plate, and gathered it up with the cakes and fruit to put it on the little table on the kitchenette side of the room. Then I returned to the counter to fill glasses with water.

"Come and eat something," I urged Kreia. "We'll probably need our strength."

There was a sleepy sounding grunt, and Atton sat up. "What?" he mumbled, blinking like a cave-blind kinrath. "Oh, you made breakfast. Smells good. Love a woman that can cook." His bare feet hit the floor, and he ran his hands through his hair, standing it on end.

"Atton, try not to talk until you've properly rejoined the living, okay?" I asked him, before Kreia could say something worse. She was looking like it.

"Mmm, Okay," he agreed, coming over to the table with Kreia.

I sat down with the two of them and we all started eating. "So. The plan is to get a feel for this place," I told them in between mouthfuls. "Check out our contacts, ask around. Be on the lookout for any alternate way off Citadel Station, or any word on the _Ebon Hawk_. The Exchange might pose a problem, so we'll watch out for them, too. I think we managed to blow up the _Harbinger_, so the Sith shouldn't be here today or tomorrow, but we can't stay for the summer."

Atton was beginning to wake up with the food. "Shame," he remarked. "I hear summers here are lovely—what with the recycled air, lack of windows, all the stunning metal floors. We could take day trips down to the surface and bask in the toxic breeze."

I laughed appreciatively. "I'll have to contain my disappointment."

Kreia frowned. "The longer we stay, the more we tempt fate."

"No one's arguing," I said quickly, again, forestalling a ruder comment someone else might have made. "But we can't find anything out unless we take time to look."

"Then let us be on our way and not waste any more time with frivolous banter," Kreia said, as we all finished.

"Sure, Kreia," I sighed. "We can do that. Let me do the dishes, first."

As I grabbed the plates and set off toward the sink, I felt much less cheerful. Jedi Masters never have much of a sense of humor. I'd always had to turn to my fellow Knights or the younglings before, when I needed a laugh. Once Xase and I'd agreed that the Council probably didn't permit someone to pass to Master if they laughed more than three times a year. Now, I didn't know if Kreia was a Jedi Master or not, but she certainly had the humorless fun-crusher part down pat.

Atton went to the fresher and returned with his clothes semi-straightened and his hair in some sort of array, anyway. The blaster we'd picked up for him on Peragus was in its holster on his hip, and he was carrying his pack. "I didn't grab everything," he said, as I finished the pan and started on the last few dishes. "Just a couple of ration bars, two extra power packs, and an empty datapad."

"I'll grab mine, too, with the credits and our water skins," I told him.

"I'll fill up the water skins while you finish there," Atton promised.

Morning chores taken care of, Kreia went to the door imperiously. "Let us go."

Atton tossed me my pack, and I removed my blaster from beneath the full water skins, and holstered it like his. Then we left the apartment.

B-4D4 greeted me civilly when I told him my name at the reception desk, and immediately gave me directions to Jana Lorso's office. I found it interesting that the Executive Officer wasn't doing anything that couldn't be put aside to see me, and filed the information away for future use. Kreia, Atton, and I took the path the protocol droid indicated.

To get to the Executive Officer's office, we had to go through quite a bit of the rest of the Czerka suites. They were spacious and well-decorated, but not so professional that it wasn't obvious that there were many mercs milling around with other employees. Big, and heavily armed mercs. There were _too_ many of them.

Jana Lorso's office was the biggest, best decorated one of the lot. Her desk was wide and made of an expensive-looking wood, and a large green banner hung on the wall behind her. She was sitting in a large, plush chair looking over a datapad, but when the three of us came in she gestured to three, smaller chairs before her.

"Please, sit," she said. Warily, I did so, followed by Kreia and Atton. "I knew you'd come eventually," she said. "I am confident that we will be able to reach a working agreement satisfactory to both you and I. But where are my manners? On behalf of the Czerka Corporation, I would like to be the first to welcome you to Telos. Over her desk, she extended her hand, and I took it.

"Nice to meet you in person, Ms. Lorso. These are my friends, Kreia and Atton Rand. Anything you can say to me you can say to them."

Lorso shook Kreia and Atton's hands in turn. "Pleasure," she said, with that bright, fake smile that didn't illuminate her cold, calculating eyes. "I'm sure any friends of the last Jedi have to be…capable sorts."

Her tone made me want to squirm. "Let's cut to the chase, Ms. Lorso," I said. "You want my help. I'm not sure if I want to give it. You mentioned the Ithorians when you contacted me before, but I have to tell you that they approached me using neither guilt nor threats to influence me when they asked for my help. I'm here today because I wanted to hear what Czerka had to say about their complaints."

Lorso nodded briskly. Her smile cooled a little. "I can understand why you might be on their side," she said. "But believe me, you won't be doing Telos any favors assisting those amateurs."

I had to raise an eyebrow at that. "Amateurs? Ithorians are among the best ecological engineers in the galaxy. And Habat's herd certainly seems sincere in their desire to help Telos."

Czerka's Executive Officer clicked her tongue in irritation. "Oh, sure, Habat's intentions are good enough, and you won't hear me complaining about their engineering expertise," she conceded. "But he still doesn't know what he's doing. Good intentions won't restore Telos, Ms. Leona—or Darden—can I call you Darden?"

I waved my assent and gestured her to go on.

"Chodo Habat's expensive policy of relocating biological specimens from Onderon without any planning will doom Telos in the end," she said. "I doubt Habat even realizes that at their current pace, they will run out of funding before even half of the Restoration Zones are up and running. Czerka plans to use some of the planet's own resources to help fund the restoration. These extra funds will greatly improve the project in the long run. Habat, on the other hand, can't see beyond his own selfish concerns."

She had started off making sense, but the characterization of Chodo Habat as selfish gave me pause. It was hardly selfish to want to make the planet the best it could be. I could see that Jana Lorso did have a point. If Telos could help support some of its own restoration, it could cut costs a great deal, especially if there was trouble on Onderon. But something beyond the uniform and its insignia told me I needed to pry a little further. "What do you mean by Telos' own resources?" I asked Lorso. "The planet was bombed into rubble, and Citadel Station is stretched thin as it is."

"We've discovered that the surface of Telos is covered with military facilities that were either destroyed or abandoned during the Sith attack," Lorso explained. "Salvaged raw materials from these sites can either be reprocessed and put back into service, or resold to help fund the project."

I saw the angle now. Those materials might help the restoration project, but they would help Czerka's business interests first. If Czerka got access to Telos' restoration project, of course they would rebuild it. They would have to, to maintain good relations with the Republic. The Republic holds the vast majority of worlds on which the corporation does business. But Telos would be a very different place from the planet it had been, if Czerka started by stripping the old military bases for weapons. Instead of Telos that had been: a planet of gentle farmland and sweeping coasts, where soft breezes blew and those Jedi dismissed from training had been able to come to find some peace, Telos would become a planet of metal and wheels and factories, of cold credits and profit. "I see," I said slowly. "Just what do you want me to do for you, Ms. Lorso?"

"Czerka has been managing the Restoration Project without the assistance of a droid for some time now," Lorso said. "Habat has commandeered the new droid intelligence that was to be delivered to the Station. I'd like for you to meet the shipment at Dock Module 126, Shuttle Bay 2, and bring the droid back here before the Ithorians foul things up again."

I remembered walking out of Shuttle Bay 1 in Dock Module 126, however, because it was where the _Ebon Hawk_ had docked. Grenn had marched us right past Docking Bay 2, and I knew it wasn't registered to Czerka. "Docking Bay 2 is registered to Chodo Habat and his herd," I said. "By 'commandeered', what you really mean is that he's been awarded rights to the droid and you don't like it. You want me to steal it?"

Jana Lorso gave me a pitying smile, and waved a long-fingered hand dismissively. "'Requisition,' if it helps," she said. "As the Republic's fund for the restoration of Telos is now divided between both parties, it really isn't 'stealing,' as you put it. It will save the Republic time and money if we cut through the process of having the droid transferred to us. It will be better for Telos in the long run."

I shifted so that my access to my blaster was no longer blocked by the arm of the chair in which I sat. "You've got the lingo down pat, Ms. Lorso," I said. I was uncertain of how wise it was to speak my mind, but I felt I had to say it. "For a while there, you almost had me convinced. You know, I met a droid a few days ago that referred to its function as 'facilitating communications and terminating hostilities,' in much the same sense as you just used the word 'requisition. Of course, when the droid said it facilitated communication and terminated hostilities, what it meant was that it terminated every potential hostility in the Peragus mining facility. And everyone was a potential hostility." I smiled at Jana Lorso and spread my hands wide. "Stealing is stealing, Ms. Lorso. And it's a crime."

As I'd made this little speech, the hardness of Jana Lorso's eyes had spread through the rest of her face. The welcoming smile was completely gone now, but she made one last effort. "If you're worried about the TSF, don't be. If they poke their noses into your business, I will personally take care of it. But I wouldn't worry too much. The TSF understands the importance of letting us do our work."

I really wanted to give the Executive Officer of the Citadel Station Czerka branch a flat 'no,' and tell her more explicitly what I thought of her and her ethics into the bargain. But considering that whatever her morals, Lorso did control two-thirds of the police force on the station, and she was probably right that the TSF couldn't go toe-to-toe with her, further clarity didn't seem prudent. I remembered all too well the dozens of powerful mercs in between Kreia, Atton, and me, and the door. On the other hand, I'd said too much already to lie, tell the Lorso woman I'd do it, and expect to be believed. So I looked down, as if contemplating Lorso's words. "I'll have to think about it."

Lorso's scowl lifted a bit. She nodded, and extended her hand once more. "Very well, then. I hope to see you soon."

I shook her hand again, stood with Kreia and Atton, and as quickly as I could without looking like I was _trying_ to be quick, led the three of us out of the Czerka offices again.

"You aren't going to do it, are you?" Atton asked, as soon as we were out of earshot.

"No."

"All right. It's your call," he said. "But those people have loads of credits. They could probably get us off-world no problem if we helped them out for a while."

I glanced over at them. "You're right that they could, but I don't know that they _would_. If I helped them out I'd hate myself for doing it, but more than that—I wouldn't be able to stop worrying that they'd turn me over to the Exchange in a heartbeat for a few hundred extra credits on the quarterly report to their superiors."

"Well, yeah," Atton conceded. "That's true. Yeah, you probably know best. So the Ithorians, then?"

"Yeah, we'll see what they have to say," I agreed.

"Have a care that you do not become drawn into the conflict," Kreia warned. "These people, these warring groups, are only of value as they are a help to your cause."

I frowned, and spent the rest of the walk to the Ithorian compound wondering whether Kreia really was a Jedi. She spoke like one and disapproved of laughter like one, but with that utilitarian mindset, she certainly didn't exhibit the values of one.

The Ithorian receptionist greeted us quite as civilly as B-4D4 had done. Again, I was made aware of my importance on Citadel Station. Despite Chodo Habat's inability to come visit me in person the other day due to the demands on his time, once _I_ came calling, his schedule miraculously cleared. I walked through the Ithorian compound. Instead of a lot of mercs, the Ithorians had a lot of plants. Big, brightly colored, fragrant plants. I've never been much of a botanist, so I didn't know whether the plants were native to the Ithorian homeword or specimens of the plant life the herd planned to introduce or reintroduce to Telos, but nevertheless the smell of them was relaxing. I felt the life in the plant cells, the slow, sweet processes happening in their stems and leaves through the Force. It was refreshingly natural on the otherwise unnatural space station.

When Kreia, Atton and I came into the room the receptionist had told us to go to, I recognized Moza immediately, and therefore wasn't at a loss for the name of the more stooped, wrinkled Ithorian in white that came forward and gripped my arms in traditional greeting. /Ah, it gladdens me that you came,/ the priest said. /I am Chodo Habat, leader of the Ithorians here. I am sorry to impose our troubles upon you, but I did not know where to turn until I sensed your arrival./

When he released my arms, I bowed. "I am Darden Leona," I explained. "These my friends are Kreia and Atton Rand."

Chodo Habat bowed to each of them in turn. Kreia gave a frosty bow, and Atton, surprised, jerked his head a little.

/You are welcome here, Kreia and Atton Rand,/ Habat said. /Thank you for coming./

"You sent Moza to me because you sensed my arrival." The question was implied, and Habat caught it immediately.

/Yes, I am a priest of my people, an adept in the Force,/ he explained. /I sensed an echo within the Force upon your arrival…it is a subtle disturbance, unless one is actively listening for it. I suspected you were one of the remaining Jedi, and hoped that you could help us. This is why I sent Moza to seek you out./

The weight of an identity I no longer carried hung around my shoulders like a Mandalorian trekking pack full of explosives. "Look. I'm not a Jedi," I told Chodo Habat. "I was trained as one, yes, but I was exiled, many years ago. The Jedi don't recognize me as belonging to them, even if there are any still alive, and I haven't wielded a lightsaber or used the Force for years."

/I understand,/ Chodo Habat said after a moment. /I hope that I have not offended you. Perhaps you might help us just the same./

"That depends on what you want from me," I told him.

Chodo Habat's large lids filmed over his protruding eyes, then retracted. /Tell me—do you know of the problems our restoration efforts face?/ he asked, hesitantly.

I glanced over at Moza, and the younger Ithorian bowed. "Moza told me about what you're doing here. I've just been to see Czerka myself to get the whole story. I can see how you might be having difficulties with them."

Chodo Habat's head bobbed on his long neck. /Our first goal is to get the Restoration Project moving forward again. The Republic originally provided a droid intelligence to Citadel Station that would help manage the logistics of the project. It vanished some time ago./

"Vanished," I repeated. "How?"

Habat spread his arms helplessly. /That is not known. It may have been an accident. Perhaps the droid intelligence was overtaxed by the staggering size of the project and became irrational. Some among my herd suspect theft. A droid intelligence of that sophistication would fetch a high price on the black market. Others fear its disappearance is the result of sabotage, by Czerka or some other organization that seeks to slow the Restoration Project or discredit us./

"It's not Czerka, at least," I told him. "They don't have a droid, either, and if they had one to help them run their Restoration Zones, they would have kept it."

/At any rate, the how or why of it is irrelevant,/ Habat said, waving his hand. /At great expense, my herd has acquired a second, somewhat lesser droid intelligence to take its place. It will arrive at Citadel Station shortly. The Telosian government has offered a small escort, but I had hoped that you might see its safe transition from the docks to here. Might you aid us in this matter?/

I knew Czerka wanted that droid. It was no great leap to imagine that now I had been reluctant to steal it, the next step Jana Lorso would take would be to send some of her mercenaries. The Ithorians couldn't outgun them, and the TSF was spread thinly enough as it was. Whatever escort they provided would probably be small and ineffectual. It was the task of a moment to decide to accept the request.

It'd be easy enough to escort the droid here, and if I aided Chodo Habat now, he might answer some of my questions once I returned. "Yeah, I'll help out," I promised.

/My thanks,/ Habat said. /I will send word to my people. They will be awaiting your arrival in Bay Two, Dock Module 126./

"We'll go right now," I assured him. I led the way out of the compound, and Kreia, Atton and I headed back east, toward the shuttle.

"We have allied with the Ithorians, then?" Kreia asked. "An interesting choice. They are hardly the most powerful group on the station."

"It's their droid," I replied.

"Keep in mind our ultimate objective," Kreia warned.

I glanced at her, and quickened my pace slightly. "I am," I told her, adopting the standard Padawan mode of speech one uses to defend a hypothetical course of action to the Master. "There are four groups on the Station. The TSF, the Exchange, Czerka, and the Ithorians. Of the four groups, the TSF doesn't want us to leave, and the Exchange wants to capture or kill us. They are diametrically opposed to our purpose, and therefore out of the question as current allies in our endeavor to leave Telos. We can't trust Czerka, nor do we want to risk making an enemy of the TSF again by aiding Czerka in committing a crime. That could get us either captured or locked up again, respectively.

"By process of elimination, then, we ally with the Ithorians. Because they're in charge of the planet restoration, they'll have to have access to the surface, and according to our last information on the _Ebon Hawk_, that's where it is."

I relaxed my tone, and shrugged. "So we play Habat's game for a while, and we aim to get him to like us enough to send us to the surface."

We'd arrived at the shuttle, and I climbed aboard. I took a seat and folded my hands. Kreia's mouth looked thoughtful, beneath her hood, and I could sense her appreciation for my adoption of tradition in defending my choice. I didn't mention my moral reasons for aiding Habat, that I actually wanted to help heal Telos, that I hoped he could heal my connection to the Force. I had a feeling the moralities wouldn't weigh too heavily with Kreia, and the old woman had already demonstrated herself averse to Habat's offer to heal me.

"You've really thought this through," Atton said, sliding a little too close to me. I edged away, and Kreia sat across from us.

"Yes, you do seem to be looking at things as they are," Kreia admitted grudgingly. "Continue to do so. Do not be distracted by the politics around you. They are irrelevant."

"It's just logic," I said. The shuttle doors closed, and we began moving toward Dock Module 126.

The Ithorian manning the entrance to Docking Bay 2 let us in as soon as I told him our names. It turned out the droid intelligence had just docked. There was only a single TSF man there beside the Ithorian escort, and both of them looked nervous.

"I'm glad you're here," the TSF man admitted as Kreia, Atton, and I walked up. "I'm the only man the TSF could spare for this job, and frankly, I have a bad feeling about this whole business. Are you here to help with the escort?"

"Yeah. Chodo Habat thought you might need a little—"the door to the bay whooshed as it opened again, and five heavily armed and armored mercs walked in. "Yep, there they are," I muttered.

"Get the droid," the leader of the mercs told his buddies. "Kill the rest."

"Kreia? I don't really think we'll be able to help Czerka after this," I said, drawing my blaster.

I fired. Once, twice. Three times. The first two guys went down, but the woman moved fast, toward me. She was too close for me to fire again—her vibroblade was swinging down. I don't really know how it happened, but the reaction was just instinctive. I reached out for the Force, and froze the woman in place and shoved her back.

It worked. The stunned woman tumbled back, and Atton shot her dead. The TSF officer had taken out the other two. The firefight was over, but for a moment, all I could do was stand there, dumbstruck. "I—I—"I stammered, staring at the corpse of the woman on the ground.

"Yes, it comes back, does it not?" Kreia said. She sounded pleased. "Good. Very good. Was that the first time you have manipulated the Force since we met on Peragus?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I've been feeling it more and more, but I hadn't tried to use it. I can—I can use the Force again." I breathed in a gasp of delicious air. I realized that for ten years I had been feeling small, helpless, alone, angry. Now, for the first time I could remember in a decade, I felt free.

Atton seemed a little shaken. "If you do that often, no one's going to believe you when you say you're not a Jedi, sweetheart."

"They won't, will they?" I said, beginning to grin. "It'll probably 'cause me a hell of a lot of trouble." But Aithne, I liked being a Jedi, and it pleased me that others might identify me as one again, even if I was technically still an exile. I turned to the TSF officer. He was stooped on the ground next to one of the merc blasters.

"This blaster—check it out," he said, tossing it over to me, minus the power pack.

I looked at the wiring, at the machinery on the thing. "Awful lot of modifications," I said. "Dangerous ones."

"Exactly," the TSF officer said grimly. "Many of them are illegal on Citadel Station. Something's not right here."

"D'you want to take it back to Lieutenant Grenn?" I asked him.

"He should probably take a look at it," the man agreed. "But you people saved my butt by showing up. Do you want to take it by the Ithorian compound first? They ought to know what kind of people they're up against. Just be sure to bring it back by the TSF base when you're done."

"Thanks, I'll do that," I told him. I shook the man's hand. The Ithorian was examining a corpse with a worried expression, but as I turned he stood. We both looked over at the droid. "We should probably get back to the compound now," I said. "Before someone else shows up to kill us."

Chodo Habat received us all gracefully and immediately put the droid to work. /I am gladdened by your safe return,/ he told me. /And I am grateful for your help in this matter. Please, accept this gift from my people./

He handed me a very nice pair of gloves—you know the kind, specially wired to help disarm mines and slice computers. A nice present, but not exactly what I'd hoped for. Nevertheless, I thrust the gloves in my pack. "The mercs at the dock. They were carrying Czerka weapons, but the weapons are weird," I told Chodo. "I thought you might want to take a look at one." I handed Chodo the modified blaster the TSF guy had shown me.

Chodo examined the blaster. /I am not familiar with these modifications,/ he said after a moment. /You should take this blaster to Lieutenant Grenn: he may be of more help./

"That was the plan," I told him. "I'm not exactly keen on the idea of the mercs being able to bully and kill people more effectively. Is there anything else I can do for you, Chodo?"

/With the blaster you have shown me and the report my herd member has brought from the docks, my fears have been confirmed,/ Chodo Habat said. /The gunmen were from the Exchange—Czerka has hired the crime syndicate to work against us. Long have I suspected that Czerka and the Exchange work together, the former supplying manufactured arms to be sold via the latter's black market channels. Now with the TSF keeping a closer eye on Czerka activities, the corporation has turned to the Exchange to be its fist on Citadel Station./

Glancing over at my companions, I saw Kreia's mouth had gone tight. Atton's shoulders had tensed. "Well," I said ironically. "I'm suddenly very glad we didn't ally with Czerka after all. Aren't you?" I looked back at Habat. "We have to do something, sir. You can't fight them on both fronts." I couldn't, either, but that was beside the point.

/What you say is true,/ the Ithorian priest admitted, /But up until now we have had little success in dealing with the Exchange. I have tried to meet with the leader of the Exchange here, a Quarren named Loppak Slusk. He has refused my every invitation, and allows no one inside the Exchange suites. I fear he does not take us seriously. The Jedi, though, are renowned as warriors and diplomats both. Perhaps you might speak with Loppak, show him the value of a restored Telos./

Atton shifted and made a small noise. I looked at him to acknowledge his unvoiced objection. "I'm not sure if you know what you're asking me to do, Chodo," I said carefully. "The Jedi are renowned as warriors and diplomats, as you say, but I'm an exile. Even if Slusk deals with me as a Jedi and not a random nosy citizen, I'm not much better off. The Exchange has a massive bounty on Jedi. Two different operatives have attacked me in the past week. To waltz right up to them—I'd be taking my life into my hands even speaking to the lowliest lackey."

Chodo Habat looked concerned. I'd made my point. My stomach churned, but I knew I had to go on, if we ever wanted to get off of Citadel Station.

"Nevertheless," I continued, "I guess I'll have to deal with the Exchange sooner or later. Figure out what's up with the bounty. Best to do it on Citadel, where the Exchange is still getting established. Who knows?" I said, making sure my voice displayed every bit of the total lack of confidence I felt, despite my brave words. "Acting as your go-between might offer me some measure of protection. I'll do it."

Chodo looked troubled. He shifted. /Many thanks, Darden Leona,/ he said finally. /I am most grateful for your assistance. I will guide my thoughts toward your safety—and Loppak's, as well. I wish harm upon no one./

His attitude was unrealistically optimistic, but I'd already presented the situation as clearly as possible, so I bowed, and left the compound.

Atton was talking almost before we exited the lobby. "Are you crazy?" he hissed. Reconsidering the question, he paused for half a second. "I mean—are you _absolutely_ insane? You go within a hundred meters of the Exchange and they'll gun you down before you can blink! It's bad enough they're after you to begin with without going looking for them!"

"Yeah, I know," I snapped, none too happy with the prospect myself. "And I made sure Habat knew that. He's uncomfortable asking me to do dangerous things to begin with. I'll let him stew on it a little—but I wasn't kidding, back there. Fighting on two fronts is never a good idea, and we're doing it already with the Sith and the Exchange. Now I know the Sith aren't about to give up and back down. But the Exchange just might. And asking them here what they're about is a lot easier than asking on some other world, okay?"

"It's still crazy!" Atton insisted.

"You don't have to come if you don't want. My _life_ is crazy right now." I shook my head and lengthened my stride, trying to get away from Atton's all too reasonable objections.

"Hey, I didn't mean—"he started.

I turned around, stopping us in the middle of the Residential 082 thoroughfare. "Just head back to the apartment," I said to Atton and Kreia. "Grab some supper. I need to think. I'll be back later."

Atton's face softened, and I sensed something like actual concern from him. "Darden—"

"Do as she says," Kreia interrupted. She seemed to search me for a moment. "I will withdraw as well," she told me. "But even if I am not physically present, I am available to aid you. When you have organized your thoughts, we will be waiting."

I felt a rush of gratitude to Kreia. I waved them off. Atton looked for a moment like he was going to protest, but then he thought better of it, and followed Kreia away.

As for me, I took the shuttle back to Entertainment 081 and headed toward the TSF office, desperate to sort something out at least.

Often fear is a paralytic, but sometimes it motivates a great surge of productivity. That afternoon and evening were like that for me. I was terrified of going up against however many Exchange thugs operated on Citadel Station, terrified of refusing and waiting around for the Republic or worse, the Sith. I knew I couldn't count on maintaining an independent course of action once the Republic showed up, and the Republic had done a dismal job of protecting the Jedi. I had no reason to believe they would do better with me, especially considering the stealth of these new Sith. No, my best chances were on my own. But it also meant I had no access to an army to take on the Exchange, or even a squad. It was just me, Kreia, and Atton. Taking Kreia into any sort of firefight was a risk, Force or no Force, and it didn't really seem fair to ask Atton. His commitment to our little crew was tenuous at best.

Despite myself, I was getting drawn into things. It had started with reawakening to the Force on Peragus, and had continued outward from there. I had gained responsibilities, allies, and enemies all in less than a week, and though I felt the Force more strongly every minute, I still seriously doubted my capacity to handle everything. I was overwhelmed and exhilarated all at once, getting into more trouble every hour, but stronger every hour, too. I felt like more of a person than I had for years, but I also was very conscious that I could be flying at hyper-speed straight into an anomaly.

The tension from all these conflicting emotions resulted in a furious stream of frustrated energy. I wandered all over Citadel Station. I raced on the swoop track and won a couple hundred credits, played pazaak and lost it all, but won a game and freed one of our neighbors back in 082's ex-girlfriend from slavery. I went back and forth between the TSF station and a shop run by a dubious Duros for a few hours, and helped Grenn track down and stop the smuggling that had provided the illegal upgrades for that blaster. There was a pretty easy firefight I got into along with the TSF against the smugglers, that only served to remind me how much harder fighting the Exchange would be, but eventually Grenn locked the smuggler away, and I left the TSF office around 2200 hours knowing that at least today I'd freed a slave and eliminated a source of weaponry for Czerka and the Exchange.

I still was unready to return to the apartment, so I wandered back into the cantina and went over to the bar. I didn't plan to get drunk, but I thought that dulling the edge of my thoughts a little before I went back to bed could only be a good thing. But when I moved to pay the bartender for my shot of juma, he shook his head. "It's covered. Luxa over there said she's got your bill tonight."

He indicated a scantily clad purple Zeltron in the corner. She gave me a suggestive wink and crooked a single finger at me.

"Who is she?" I asked the bartender.

"She's Exchange," he told me. "Loppak Slusk's best woman. Personally, I'd stay away from her."

I looked back over at Luxa, interested rather than intimidated by this Exchange woman who wasn't shooting at me, but buying me drinks instead. She hadn't even drugged my juma juice, or paid the bartender to do it. I'd seen him pour my drink. I grabbed my glass and went over to the dark corner where Luxa sat on a barstool.

"Hello there," she purred. "You're Darden Leona, aren't you? You're the buzz of the station. I heard about what happened at the docks this morning. Can we talk for a bit?"

I kept a hand near my blaster, but swung up onto the stool next to her. "Well, that is why you got my drink, isn't it, Luxa? What do you want?"

She grinned at me, displaying very white teeth. "Oh, so forward," she teased. "I like that. I handle vice—you know, spice, gambling, the good things in life—for the local Exchange boss Loppak Slusk."

"I know you're Exchange," I said. "Pardon me if that makes me a little suspicious of your motives."

Luxa held up her hands. "Don't worry, I won't make a move on you. That squid and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, you being one of them."

I sipped my juice and cocked an eyebrow. "What—so you don't support the bounty?"

Luxa cocked an eyebrow in return. She looked down at my civilian clothes and blaster. "What—are you really Jedi?" she asked, mocking my tone.

I blinked. "You've got a brain, I'll give you that," I admitted. "I used to be a Jedi. Once upon a time. Many, many years ago. Not anymore."

Luxa seemed satisfied. "Exactly," she said firmly. "This Exchange bounty has nothing to do with you—but Slusk, my boss, won't listen to me. Still, you seem a very capable sort. Tell me, are you a capable sort?" Her voice dropped down to a whisper, and she looked up and down. Her eyes lingered like Atton's did. Except I felt uncomfortable and exposed when Atton looked at me like that, and with Luxa I just got angry. I slid off my stool and put my drink down on the counter.

"Just tell me what you want."

"I think you're even tougher than you look," Luxa explained. "Jedi or not. So here it is—help me with Loppak Slusk, and I'll keep the Exchange off your back—and find your missing ship."

"What's your problem with Slusk?"

"What, besides him being your typically slimy Quarren?" Luxa sneered. "Slusk works for Goto, out of Nar Shaddaa. Now this Goto; he's rigid, ruthlessly efficient, and all he sees are numbers. Goto keeps the squid around because he maintains a steady flow of income, yet it's only half of what I know it could be. I should be Citadel's boss—but Goto doesn't allow breaks in the chain of command. I can't go over Loppak Slusk's head, so I've got to take care of him myself. And I want your help."

I folded my arms and regarded her. "How would this work, then?"

"I can get you into the Exchange suites in Residential 082," Luxa said. "They're west of the entrance. More than a few guards are in my pocket, so there shouldn't be too much resistance inside. When Slusk's out of the way, I'll clear up the bounty matter and get your ship back. Deal?"

I found myself smiling at how stupid Luxa thought I was. Her offer sounded too good to be true. Which meant it probably was. I could tell she was telling the truth about not believing I was a Jedi, and that she didn't think the bounty applied to me. But Luxa had also as good as told me that the bounty came from this Goto. As Goto was on Nar Shaddaa, I couldn't exactly take him out tomorrow, and if Luxa broke his rules by having her boss murdered, she'd probably want to appease him by, say, sending him a Jedi he was looking for that she'd just happened to trick into Exchange headquarters. I bet anything the Zeltron was planning a double-cross.

Still, she would have to at least follow through on getting me into the Exchange base and standing down the guards if she wanted Slusk dead, and she wasn't lying about that, either. Luxa was essentially dividing the forces I would face tomorrow. There'd be Slusk's men, then there would be hers after. If I went in expecting a fight, I might get a chance to apply leverage to Luxa, Slusk, or both and get them to lay off the Ithorians, if not off of me.

I didn't tell Luxa I knew she was planning to capture or kill me, though. I figured the longer she went on thinking I was stupid, the better. So I shrugged, as if it were no big deal. "Sure. I'll do it," I said in a callous, bored tone.

Luxa grinned. "We'll speak again, then. Best of luck, beautiful."

I waved at her ironically, and headed back to the apartment.

It was almost midnight, but Atton and Kreia were still waiting up. "We've got an in," I told them.

"To the Exchange?" Atton asked.

"Yeah," I said, sinking wearily down onto my bunk. "The trouble with these massive unprincipled organizations is that there's always some dissatisfied underling looking to climb the ranks. One got in touch. She's standing down a lot of the guards. She promised to help us find the _Hawk_ and get the bounty taken care of if we help her kill her boss."

"You can't honestly think she's serious," Atton objected.

"Not at all," I agreed. "But she will get us in. If we go in knowing it's a trap, I just might be able to play Slusk and Luxa—that's the dissatisfied underling—off of one another. One way or another we'll get someone to promise to leave the Ithorians alone, and in any event, the Exchange forces will be divided against one another. Odds are we'll make it out."

"Really?"

"Maybe," I admitted. "You can stay back here, if you like, Atton."

Atton made a face. "Yeah, and be the one the TSF calls tomorrow night to tell you were murdered 'cause you were one blaster short," he muttered. He groaned, rubbed his eyes tiredly, and rolled his head around. "You're lucky I still owe you one, Leona," he said, when he'd composed himself.

"Thanks, Atton."

"Sure, sure," he said. "Just do me a favor—try, if you _possibly_ can, to not get us into any more life threatening situations while we're here?"

"I will do my absolute best," I promised him. "It's not like I enjoy them, either."

Kreia had been watching silently from her bunk. Now she spoke. "This—bargain with the Exchange. It is not the only thing you accomplished in your absence."

"No," I admitted. "I did a bit of this, a bit of that."

"Walk with me," Kreia commanded suddenly.

I sighed. I was very tired. "Sure," I said, getting up reluctantly.

Kreia led the way out of the apartment, and we began walking down the path I'd taken with Atton the evening before. Eventually, Kreia spoke. "You are growing strong in the Force," she said. "Today you used it for the first time since your exile. I can feel it, even now—its touch upon you. Yet I fear you are allowing the higher mysteries to blind you to others. Turning away from that which tempts you is not strength. Facing it is. This night, when I meditated upon your doings, I sensed you aid many others. You took no payment, no reward. It is not the first time you have displayed mercy, charity. Why do you do this?"

I wasn't exactly sure what she wanted me to say, so I thought for a moment, then answered honestly. "There's enough suffering in the galaxy. I caused enough of it. Now—especially with things so chaotic, moving so quickly—I try to fix things. It helps me to organize my mind when I sort out wrongs, ease pain, and heal hurts."

"Ah, it aids you," Kreia replied. "In this you are correct. Taking on the struggles of the weak gives you strength. But what of those you help? Would you rob them of the strength needed to grow? You speak of chaos. Your thoughts are much on the trouble you have encountered since our first meeting. But has this not made you stronger, more capable?"

I slowed our pace, uneasy. "I don't understand what it is with you and helping people," I told her. "You have a problem with aiding the Ithorians, too."

"Habat has an agenda and he hopes to tie you into it, to use you to his own ends," Kreia said.

"And that's so different from everyone else we've met," I retorted. "At least it's a good agenda, Kreia. Look, there's something to be said for learning from struggle. I'll give you that. But that doesn't necessarily mean acts of mercy are harmful. That doesn't mean helping others is an unkindness, or wrong in some way. The misery and oppression of the weak serves no one."

"Pah! You have learned nothing," Kreia spat. "From such small acts, from such critical points, the universe and its masses may be moved. You must be careful in all that you do, and in every choice that you make. Aiding others gives you strength by taking on their challenges but weakens them. If that is your choice, then use their dependency, feed upon it, until you have exhausted them. Then leave them. And I would view the ones you travel with in much the same way."

I felt her impressing the significance of the last sentence on me, and I realized that Atton had sparked the conversation just as much as the things I had done that afternoon. Kreia had noticed, as I had, that there was no reason for Atton to still be around, but that he was, and still wanted to help even though it obviously went against deeply ingrained self-preservation instincts. Kreia was urging me to use and feed upon Atton's indebtedness to me, his incomprehensible attraction to me against what seemed to be his better judgment. I suddenly felt protective of Atton, even though I still wasn't sure I liked him much, and I distrusted Kreia even more. "I will view _you_ as disposable," I said coldly. "If it pleases you."

Kreia only smiled. "Now you are learning," she said approvingly. "Do you know why those we meet display such weakness? As I said, their lives are static, untested. It is only through interaction, through decision and choice, through confrontation, physical or mental, that the Force can grow within you. You have seen it. You have felt it within you as you have traveled with me. The growing anger, the rage, and the power it brings. Yet the power does not build without such struggle. Through smaller cruelties, greater ones are born."

I had been angry, when I'd met Kreia five days prior. I'd been angry for a long time. The return to Republic space, the return of the Force, was starting to soothe that anger, but it worried me that Kreia urged me to keep it, to build power from it. "You're not a Jedi, are you?" I asked her, almost certain. "Are you a Sith?"

Kreia had been walking near to me. Now she drew away. "Does it matter?" she asked bitterly. "Of course it does. Such titles allow you to break the galaxy into Light and Dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole. Know that I am your teacher, and that is enough."

I considered for a moment, and on a hunch, asked, "Before you were my teacher. What were you, then?"

Kreia shrugged. "What do you wish to hear?" she said in a harsh, mocking voice. "That I once believed in the Code of the Jedi? That I felt the call of the Sith, that perhaps, once, I held the galaxy at its throat? That for every good work I did, I brought equal harm upon the galaxy? That perhaps what the greatest Sith Lords knew of evil, they learned from me? What would it matter now?" she said, quietly now, though she had been speaking in a loud, ringing voice. "There is only so much comfort in knowing such things, and it is not who I am now."

It was like my blood had turned to ice. "Tell me," I ordered her, quietly.

She was incredibly vague. Even two years later, I still haven't sorted out the specifics of her story. But here's what I gathered _then_. Kreia had been a Sith, though she never explicitly told me so. She did mention walking in the Dark, unknown places. First she had been alone, and then she had been with others. She spoke of alliances made in hatred. These alliances had then been broken. For whatever reason, Kreia's 'allies' had cast her out, and much of her power had been lost.

It was near 0100 hours as we turned back to the apartment. "Learn from me," Kreia finished. "My mistakes, and use that knowledge to become greater than I. That is all I ask of you, and that is all I desire."

She didn't say anything else. When we reentered the apartment, Atton was already sleeping, blissfully ignorant of what I'd learned. Me? I tossed and turned for hours. I was bound to and under the instruction of a woman who for all I knew still held the convictions and maintained the brilliance of a powerful Sith Lord, though her power had been broken. I stared at the dark ceiling and kicked at my sheets, but finally, finally, I fell asleep.

* * *

_"'What the greatest Sith Lords knew of evil, they learned from me,'" Aithne quoted. She had a focused, listening expression upon her pale face. Her head was slightly tilted to the left, her golden eyes intent on some intangible point in the distance. "Darden, keep talking. Just keep going, okay? There's this thing that happens when I go places I used to go or talk to people I used to know. It's how the Jedi found the Star Forge. It hasn't happened for years—so I'd almost given up on ever getting any memories back. But the more you talk—just keep going."_

_ "Do you remember?"_

_ "No," Aithne said, impatiently. "But I remember that I can remember, or something like that. Like I've forgotten a song, and I couldn't tell you the title, much less the lyrics or the tune. But I've just remembered that I knew the song once, and I might be able to remember it yet. So keep going!"_

_ Darden hadn't expected this. She hadn't thought that she could do anything beyond convince Aithne she'd made a mistake leaving the Republic years before. But now that it was looking as though by virtue of their shared history, she could actually help trigger Aithne's memory, her palms began to sweat, and her heart began to race. She calmed herself with the Force. "Yeah. So the next morning I woke up I wasn't near as optimistic as I'd been the day before, faced with the prospect of taking on the Exchange…_

* * *

**Coming 5/8: Aithne and Darden discuss both the cost of armor and a helm's merit in hiding an overly expressive face as Darden relates how she left Telos. Aithne is particularly fascinated by Darden's method of concealing her emotions about future story elements. Darden refuses to relate how she learned this method yet. **

**Looking back over the Telos arc of the story, Darden is closest to how I want her to be as a character here. In the Telos arc, Darden's ruthless logic combats her high ideals and the guilt that drives her to atone for her bloody past. What emerges is a very cold, but quietly moral and genuinely searching character that I feel got lost in later chapters of the original story. Necessarily Darden has to lose some of her confusion, much of her anger, and the isolation that had been brought on by a decade of exile, but was not an original part of her character. But the pragmatism and emotional distance of the character is something I'm going to try to bring back to later chapters. It's something that makes her interesting, and her bonding ability a bit more sinister—she should clearly market herself to her followers, and I'm going to try to present that. With Atton and Kreia, Darden's herself. It won't be quite as much the case with later additions to the crew of the **_**Ebon Hawk**_**. **

**Just an author's jaunt. Leave a review in the box below on the way out. Tell me what you think!**

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	9. VIII

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sith Lords any more than Atton owned Darden's credits. Hopefully I've done a good thing with it, like Atton did when he purchased Darden's armor.**

* * *

VIII.

Tempest on Telos

_ "Breakfast was tense. Kreia ate hardly anything, but Atton was eating much too much, and far too quickly. I could sense his anxiety and apprehension, gnawing at him like a sore tooth, and when he finally pushed his food aside, he went over beside his bunk and started arming up, more heavily than he'd done before. Too heavily. I looked over at him, surprised._

I hadn't ever seen the armored shirt he was pulling on before. "Where'd you get that?" I asked.

He grunted as he situated the sewn-in-plates around him more comfortably. "You slept in. I went to the store in Entertainment 081 and got some stuff. For you and the old lady, too."

He gestured to a vibrosword on the bed. I went over to his bunk and picked up the sword. Looking over at the wall beside Kreia's bunk, I realized Atton had removed her vibrosword. I was holding it, but it had been modified since the night before. I put down the vibrosword, and Atton, now outfitted in his new stuff, pulled a large box out from under the bunk and tossed it over to me. I caught it, and opened it.

Atton had gotten me a set of armor. Light, manageable, flexible, but it would offer protection nonetheless. There was quality in the stitching of the fabric over the plates and the workmanship of the mesh. I checked the sizing in the collar, and it looked like it might even be a fit. I ran a hand over the tough, but silky front. The suit had to be expensive. "Atton—how—"

"They were your credits," he cut me off. "You're about six hundred down, sweetheart. But you _have_ to have something better than that mining uniform or that—_whatever_ it was that you took from your room on the _Harbinger_—with all the people after you and your sort of insanity that makes you want to go and _meet _them. That Dobo guy gave me a good deal when I told him it was for you. Apparently he's grateful you got his no-good brother locked away or something."

It was actually rather impressive that Atton had managed to sneak out sometime the night before, taking both my credits and Kreia's vibrosword without waking either of us up. I was even a little bothered by it, but since the purchase had been a wise one and Atton had come back, I guessed no harm had been done. I carried the box over to my pack by my bunk, and stooped, checking my purse. But no, only the six hundred credits Atton had told me about were missing. Granted, I had only had seven hundred.

I went to the fresher and replaced my own gray clothes with the armor Atton had gotten. The suit fit me very well, and I was a little unnerved that Atton had been paying close enough attention to guess my size with such accuracy. Still, it was good stuff. Jal Shey make, and they're Force Sensitives, by and large. I would be able to feel the Force and manipulate it in this armor. I figured Atton couldn't have known that most armor cut the wearer off from the Force to some extent and that this particular suit wouldn't, so I considered that to be a happy coincidence. I did, however, give him full credit for the modesty of the suit.

* * *

_ "Jal Shey make, you say? It's not the suit you're wearing now, by any chance, is it?" Aithne asked, gesturing at Darden's hooded armor, with a partial skirt made of a lightweight, but durable metal alloy. The plated shirt and pants were silky and blocked in various shades of green. _

_ "Actually, yes," Darden answered. _

_ "Hmm. Nice," Aithne observed. "The skirt would protect you from a lot of glancing melee blows, especially from those with heavier weapons whose style is best suited for leg-slashing, and the plating looks Mandalorian light armor standard beneath the fabric—which is excellent for diverting anything from light to medium blaster fire, even at close range." A smile played around her mouth. "And it brings out your eyes. Interesting you're still wearing it after what? Close to two years?"_

_ "I'm not so flush with credits I can afford to buy a four hundred credit suit of armor every three months," Darden said, folding her arms. The star of this world was going down, and the light out the grimy window was dimming. Despite the extra lamp in her quarters, Aithne couldn't quite tell if Darden blushed beneath her darker complexion. But the smaller woman did refuse to meet Aithne's gaze. "It's good armor."_

_ "So you decided not to yell at him for appropriating your credits to buy it," Aithne said._

_ "No," Darden agreed. "I figured it was probably worth it, even if he'd probably used the money to buy the shirt for himself and the upgrades for Kreia, too."_

* * *

I came out of the fresher. "It was a good choice," I told Atton. "Thanks. Just next time maybe wake me up before you decide to take the credits and unilaterally make a major purchase on my behalf?"

"I figured you needed your sleep," Atton said. "But will do."

Kreia's sightless eyes were fixed on me. I felt her focus flit to Atton, then back, and then she was there in the back of my mind, silently pressing again upon me the significance of the advice she had given me the night before, how I should use my allies—for now, just her and Atton—and their dependence upon me to my advantage. She felt this display of Atton's fear for my safety was an excellent thing for me, and it all but ruined my enjoyment of the new armor. I gave her an enormous mental 'push,' and had a wall up before a second had passed. Kreia physically jumped. I took a deep breath and focused all my concentration on the Exchange. Kreia poked insistently at the wall between our minds, and keeping it up was taking Force energy and discipline I hadn't recovered yet. After a second, sweating, I let it fall, and Kreia was in the back of my head again, her mind full of questions and annoyance. But I'd kept her out just long enough to keep my own anger and distrust under control.

"We should go," I said, picking up my blaster and holstering it.

I'd actually passed the Exchange headquarters several times before on my way to different parts of the station, or merely walking. They were located on the south side of the thoroughfare, just a little further west than the Czerka offices on the north. Once I'd learned that the 'Bumani Exchange Corporation' was the front for the Exchange, I had always tried to circle the entrance broadly, tried to keep the plant beds and other passersby between me and the entrance. This time, I walked right up to the 'employee' standing at the entrance.

"Luxa sent us," I told him.

The Rodian guard's soft head bristles fluttered as he shook his head in apprehension. /I hope you know what you're doing, human,/ he said doubtfully after a moment. But he opened the door.

I looked at Kreia to my left, Atton to my right, took a deep breath, and walked right into the most dangerous place on Citadel Station.

The Exchange offices resembled Czerka's in breadth and richness, but the décor was not nearly so tasteful. Criminal types always seem to like to flaunt their wealth when they're doing well, and it almost always comes across as disgusting instead of impressive. The artwork was elaborate, but vulgar, and here and there some Gamorrean pig had left piles of refuse, spoiling even the barbaric splendor Loppak Slusk seemed to be going for.

Luxa had made good on her word. The guards Kreia, Atton, and I encountered on our way through the Exchange headquarters saw me, then pointedly looked in the opposite direction. We met no resistance until we had reached the back of the suites and ran into Loppak Slusk himself.

He was standing in a circle of seven to eight other people, but the minute he saw me, he stopped talking. He recognized me on sight, of course. It's a crime lord's job to know everything that goes down in his sector, and definitely to have a physical ID on the current bounties. For a moment there was a stunned silence, then he croaked, /You've got a lot of nerve coming here, Jedi, with the bounty we've got on your kind. What do you want?/

"Well for one, I'd like to clear up the common misconception that I'm a Jedi," I said. "Hello—Slusk, isn't it? Name's Darden Leona. Don't think we've actually met—can't say it's a pleasure. But you see, the thing is, I'm not a Jedi. Exiled, see."

All through my speech I looked around the room, taking in my position relative to the others. I wasn't sure if the eight people in the room besides Slusk were in Luxa's pocket or not. Luckily, the door behind me had closed, and Kreia, Atton and I had our backs to the wall. They couldn't completely surround us.

/Good,/ Slusk snapped at me. /It'll be that much easier to kill you. You're marked, human. Whether you're actually a Jedi or not means nothing to me."

I breathed in, and put a hand on my blaster. "Fine," I said quickly, "But before you start having your goons shoot at me, don't you want to know why I was stupid enough to come?"

The silence stretched for one, two, three seconds, and I continued. "I came on behalf of the Ithorians. I mean, you're here because you want to be established on Telos, right? Well if there's not a Telos to be—"

I hadn't been expecting this first attempt to work, so I wasn't surprised when Loppak Slusk started yelling. /I gave very specific instructions regarding that hammerhead and any of his cronies! Who let this idiot woman in? Matu, bring me whoever's working the door. Nahata, tell Chodo if he sends anyone else we'll come after him. And Benok—/ this last to a tall, dark-skinned human male with a cruel smile-/-dust this foolish Jedi./

Loppak Slusk swept out of the room toward an area even further back. Benok brought up his frankly frighteningly large repeating blaster rifle gleefully. I drew my blaster just as quickly, ducked, rolled, and came up and shot him dead between the eyes. Two men flew back into walls, courtesy of Kreia, and Atton gunned them down. A sword swung at me, and I ducked the blade and came up under a woman's guard, bringing up my left hand to break her nose. I shot her in the head while she was screaming about it. Atton was at my back then, as I'd left the security of the wall. He faced off with two of the four remaining ones. He shot one woman in the knee, then through the hand. She dropped her gun and he made the kill shot. I elbowed a third man coming up on my left, and Kreia ran him through.

The last two looked at the corpses on the floor, looked at me, Atton, and Kreia, and made for the door. Kreia lifted her single hand, and Atton made to shoot, but I grabbed his arm, and for just a second, though he was behind me and I couldn't see him clearly, I felt him tense into some sort of martial form that seemed oddly familiar. I didn't have time to look, though, because Kreia was prepared to attack, too. "Don't!" I said.

"They'll go get help and come back with more," Atton said.

"No," I argued, releasing him as Kreia dropped her hand. "They'll get as far from here as they can and never go after anyone rumored to be a Jedi again." I snorted. "Cowards. Come on."

We pursued Slusk to the back of the base. His room was guarded by three Gamorreans, but I recognized one. He had been in the cantina the night before, not far away from Luxa. I gestured at the door, and he hollered in that Matu had arrived with the doorkeeper, and left. His two buddies joined him.

The door to Slusk's office opened, and he caught sight of me. His tentacles began twitching ferociously. /What? Whoever let you back here better be dead, or they'll be wishing they were when my droids are through with you./

Apparently, he'd had two bodyguard droids stationed on the other side of the door to his office. He motioned them to attack, but as they came at me with rifles lowered, I reached out with the Force. Droids are easy for me, since I spent so much time with them during my Exile. I felt the buzzing dual energies that was the droids, and I crushed both of them. There was an electric sizzle, and then the droids fell to the floor, disabled.

I raised my blaster pistol and aimed it at Slusk's left eye. He held up his hands, and his beak clacked two or three times before he could speak intelligently. /You've handled yourself well getting this far,/ he said, much too quickly. /But you should think things over carefully. I can be a very valuable ally. Just what is it you want? To join the Exchange? Money?/

"Asks the weasel in the weasel trap," I said, without lowering my blaster. "I don't want anything for myself that I think you here on Telos have the power to grant me. I was telling the truth, before. I'm here on behalf of the Ithorians. Leave them alone, Slusk. After I leave here you can expend whatever resources your tiny operation here has still got left chasing me to your heart's content. But leave them alone."

Slusk's beak clacked again. A thicker coating of mucus than usual had oozed up onto his skin. /Really?/ he asked, incredulous. /All this trouble, just for that?/ Just then, the door the Gamorreans had left by opened again. I kept my eyes on Slusk, but his bulbous eyes looked over my shoulder. /Ah. It seems we have some visitors,/ Slusk said. /I was wondering when you'd show up, Luxa./

I stepped back slightly so I could see Luxa, gratified to see Atton and Kreia backing up, too. Luxa's purple features held none of the mischief of the night before. And the Gamorrean guards that I had previously thought fled were behind her looking dangerous. "Slusk."

Slusk gestured to me and my companions. /I assume this was all your doing?/ he asked Luxa.

"I may have had a hand in it, yes."

/I suppose I should have known. You always were an ambitious one. Enough with that, though. On to the business at hand./ He looked around the room. /I don't think it's possible that all of us will be leaving this room alive./

It was an accurate summation of the situation. Though five-on-three odds were much better than eight-on-three, especially considering Slusk was unarmed, Kreia, Atton, and I were very severely outmuscled by Luxa's three Gamorrean friends. I swallowed, and spoke as levelly as I could manage. "Look. I want to find my ship. And I want you people to stop interfering in the Ithorian Restoration efforts. Slusk wants to make it out of this alive, and Luxa here wants more authority on Citadel. I'm sure we can all talk this over and come to an agreement that suits everyone."

/Only if that agreement involves Luxa's termination,/ Slusk said, shooting the Zeltron a hateful glance. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Of the two of you, you have tried to kill me at least twice, and she hasn't tried to kill or capture me at all. I don't think I want to deal with you."

/I see,/ Slusk said. /That'll be the last mistake you ever make./

He dashed to his desk and pressed a button, and two turrets in front of it went active. But he couldn't run away. I shot out his blue, bulbous eye and the bolt went into his brain. Kreia took out the turrets before his corpse hit the floor. Four-on-three.

Luxa walked around the desk and kicked the Quarren's body contemptuously. "Well. That's wrapped up. I've got to thank you for your help." But she didn't sheathe her shock stick, and the Gamorrean guards with their enormous axes closed the passage from Slusk's office to the anteroom.

"Look," I said, laying the cards on the table. "I know you probably don't have the authority to really call off the bounty. And I don't care about you helping me find my ship. I don't want to owe the Exchange. I can find it some other way. But I want to be able to at least walk out of here alive today, and I want the Exchange to stop interfering with the Ithorian restoration efforts. You can do that much for me, Luxa."

Luxa smiled pityingly and clicked her tongue. "It's a shame I have to turn you down after you ask so nicely. But no."

"Right. You want to increase your profit margin to make up breaking the rules to Goto, and turning me in would help," I said. "Fine. Then let me put it like this: you came in after the big fighting was over. You saw what we did to your people here. I don't want to have to stop this no-killing, no-capturing thing we've got going."

Luxa shrugged. "Slusk's dead, but Goto's still my boss. I'm shipping you to Nar Shaddaa, 'Jedi,' dead or alive. If you don't want to defend yourself, that's your choice."

"Have it your way, then," I said. Before Luxa could even raise her melee weapon, I'd put three bolts in her. I jumped over a low-swinging Gamorrean axe and danced back away behind the desk to avoid getting trapped in close quarters with opponents so much bigger and stronger than I. I shot one, but Kreia cut the second's feet out from under him, and Atton shot the third.

The plush carpet in the office was irretrievably ruined. Quite a lot of blood had gotten on Kreia's robe. Vibroblades just aren't neat like blasters and lightsabers. I looked all the corpses over. "I thought that might be how this went," I murmured. "Well. At least the Exchange'll leave me alone on Telos. And the Ithorians."

"What we have done here today will have enormous implications for this world," Kreia said. "What will Telos become with the Exchange thrown into disarray?"

"Better," I retorted. "At least for a while."

"You're in trouble, though," Atton said, marveling at all the damage we'd done. "Good grief. Maybe Nar Shaddaa isn't such a good idea after all."

"Just 'cause the bounty's from there?" I challenged him. I made my way over to a terminal on the wall. We'd passed an Ithorian in restraints on our way through the offices. I accessed the terminal and disabled his force cage, then stepped away.

Atton stared at the carnage, still in shock. "The Exchange is one of the most powerful groups on the Smuggler's Moon. If this Goto wants you so badly, it'd probably be a good idea not to show up on his front doorstep, wouldn't you say? Not to mention I'm sure this Loppak Slusk has friends on Nar Shaddaa that won't be happy to hear he's gone," he added, with a nod toward the Quarren corpse.

I rummaged through the drawers of Slusk's desk, grabbing credits and stuffing them in my pack. Well, the Exchange certainly wouldn't be using them to any effect any time soon. "I never planned to go to Nar Shaddaa in the first place, Atton. But let's get out of here before someone comes to see what happened. The last thing we need is another official investigation. We'll need to get your clothes washed, too," I added to Kreia.

Atton blinked, and seemed to come out of his daze. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "Guess we'll figure out where to go after we leave here when we actually figure out how we're going to leave."

It took some doing to get Kreia back to the apartment in her current state, even though it wasn't a long trek. But we did manage it, and Kreia dressed in my gray outfit from the _Harbinger_ while her brown robes soaked in the sink. We all sat on the end of our bunks, staring at one another for a while.

At last, Atton said. "So…that's pretty much a complete failure on the low-profile front."

"Hah! I'm a Jedi, haven't you heard? The last one in the galaxy," I said bitterly. "There's no way to do that low-profile."

"We have stayed overlong on Telos," Kreia observed. "It is unfortunate that there was no way to peacefully resolve things with the Exchange. It has only made our situation more desperate."

"Yeah, well," I said. "If you want to go with me to wrap things up with Habat-?"

She sniffed. "I will remain, and try to purify my mind and meditate on the whereabouts and intentions of our enemies."

Atton looked at Kreia, and incomprehensibly, his mouth quirked up. "I'll come," he said.

We left together to go tell Habat his Exchange problems were over. As we walked, Atton jerked his thumb back toward the apartment. "You know she's really staying because she doesn't want to be seen without her oh-so-mysterious Jedi robe and cloak."

I laughed. "You might be right," I admitted. "Think that's the first time I've ever seen her whole face. But she doesn't like the Ithorians, either."

We walked on a little ways in silence. Atton watched me, though. It was the same evaluative gaze he'd given me that one time on the _Ebon Hawk. _Eventually, he said, "Back there—that was some—I mean, I knew you could fight. Against that assassin, and you got through all those droids and Sith on Peragus, but—"he paused, seemed to decide something. Then he stated, "You went in there knowing we'd have to take them all out."

Atton had displayed a lot of apprehension before the more dangerous situations we'd gotten in, but now, his voice had a clinical quality to it I hadn't observed before. His eyes glittered, but a frown played around his mouth. He seemed, somehow, both impressed and disapproving.

"You handled it well," I told him. In fact, he had fought incredibly well. With every firefight we got into, Atton was displaying more and more ability, indicating that though he undoubtedly preferred to dodge trouble, he was obviously used to it, and his nerve didn't fail him when push came to shove. A few times, he had almost seemed trained to me. The way he had handled himself with the assassin in the TSF office for one. I decided to ask him. "In the main firefight—with Slusk's henchman. I grabbed your arm, but you were still acting on battle instinct…"

Atton's lips went as thin as a razor. It was like I'd just stepped on a frozen river in midwinter, and the ice had cracked beneath my feet. I lost my nerve.

"Never mind," I said. "It was probably nothing. Yeah, I thought we would probably have to take them all out," I admitted. "I knew the bounty came from Nar Shaddaa going in, and that neither Slusk nor Luxa really had any authority to call it off, or inclination to leave our allies alone and abandon a profitable alliance with Czerka. I relied on Luxa dividing the Exchange forces so we could take them one group at a time. Telos is probably better off without an early Exchange influence, anyway."

"That's kind of—"Atton broke off again. "We killed them _all_," he said, instead.

"Not the two that ran," I corrected him. "Not the doorkeeper, or the guards that stood down."

He looked at me, and again, I got the sense that he was torn between respect and disapproval, regret and perhaps even excitement. "What?" I finally demanded.

"Nothing," he said. "Just—I hadn't pegged you as the ruthless sort, what with all the save-the-Telosian-trees stuff we've been doing."

Most of the time I found it refreshing that Atton had no idea whom he was talking to, but here the irony was as sharp as a vibroblade and just as painful. I forced a laugh. "You have no idea, Atton."

We'd made it to the Ithorian compound. Walking through the suites, we made our way back to Chodo Habat's office. Habat bowed to me, and I returned the courtesy. /You have returned,/ he said. /Did your meeting with Loppak Slusk go well?/

"There's successful meetings, and then there's getting the job done," I told him. "You won't have any more trouble with the Exchange here on Citadel Station, Chodo. Me? If and when I get off this Station, I'll probably have a hell of a lot more."

Chodo Habat wilted like one of his plants. /I sense that your meeting did not go peacefully. It saddens me greatly that blood was shed. It was not my intention to cause harm./

"It was their intention to cause harm," I replied.

Chodo shifted his weight, uncomfortable. Then he nodded to Moza. /I am again in your debt,/ the priest said. /Until we find a more fitting way to commend you, please accept this humble gift. It came from a lightsaber that belonged to a Jedi once of my herd./

Moza placed the gift in my hand. It was a lightsaber energy cell fixture. Simple, unadorned, but in good condition. I could build upon it. I could carry a lightsaber again. For a moment, I almost couldn't breathe. "Thank—thank you," I stammered, after I could speak again. "This might prove—very useful." I swallowed. I curled my fingers around the tiny part. "What remains to be done?"

Habat bowed. /For the Restoration Project to continue in earnest,/ he said, /the Telosian government must be made to see the cancer that Czerka has become. Their security division is merely an army of badge-bearing thugs. They supply weapons to the local black market. They steal Restoration Zones and land illegal salvage teams on Telos./

His allegations managed to bring me back down to the station from the gratitude I'd felt upon accepting his gift. I made a small, dissenting noise, and Chodo looked at me. I cleared my throat. "I'll grant you the first two," I said. "Not the last. Their hold over their Restoration Zones is perfectly legal, if objectionable. What they're doing with them, though, certainly isn't helping to heal the planet's surface."

Chodo bobbed his head. /What you say is correct. Czerka has imbedded itself within the government, using Telos' own laws to protect itself from censure or investigation. Legally the Telosians can do nothing. If you can bring Czerka's corruption to light, perhaps the Republic could intervene and cast them out. This is what I would ask of you./

I can recognize a final task when I hear one, Aithne. But I also recognized in Chodo's speech the words 'Legally the Telosians can do nothing.' So did Atton. Instead of looking apprehensive, though, as he had done at so many of the courses we'd taken on, he started looking thoughtful, and even a little like he was looking forward to figuring out how we could dodge the laws on Citadel. He'd definitely lived on the wrong side of the law before we'd met, I decided. I filed the information away for future reference, and addressed Habat. "If I get caught doing something illegal I go back to jail," I told him. "But if I succeed, you're home free, aren't you? Okay. Fine. Since we're altering the entire planetary landscape, might as well go all out. How would I go about digging up dirt on Czerka? They've been careful. We know they're dirty, but I doubt there'd be any evidence the TSF or the planetary council could convict them on."

Chodo Habat leaned forward. /The Czerka offices in Residential 082 contain a secure mainframe,/ he explained. /It is a closed system, inaccessible from the outside./

"But we're guessing all their business is on it, even the questionable bits," I said, following. "Okay, but if it's a closed system I can't slice it for you. So what do we do?"

/We have skilled technicians among us,/ Chodo said, /But they cannot access the system. I am certain this mainframe contains files that would expose Czerka's corruption. It is only a matter of obtaining them and passing them on to the Telosian authorities./

Chodo Habat was a big one for unwarranted optimism, I thought. "_Only_. Chodo, I've pretty much made sure that Czerka hates my guts right now. I wouldn't be surprised if Lorso's told her mercs to shoot me on sight if they can get away with it, actually. Or—at least, that's how she'll be feeling by day's end. I can't exactly walk right in and ask her for the files in the secure mainframe. How do you propose we get around all that?"

/There is an employee of Czerka who may be willing to assist us in our cause,/ Habat said. /Corrun Falt, Jana Lorso's second-in-command. Our sources tell us he is dissatisfied with Lorso, and uncomfortable with her unethical policies. He spends his free time in the cantina in the Entertainment module. More than that I do not know./

He shifted uncomfortably, eying me meaningfully. /We seek a solution that sees no one harmed,/ he stressed. /But…we have found none,/ he added reluctantly. /I am confident that a Jedi could find a way to make things right, but…?/

"I'll come up with something, sure," I promised. "Should be an interesting challenge." I cleared my throat. "Er—I might have to bribe Falt. Unless he's an idiot, he'll be able to see that it might not just be Lorso that goes down if he gives me what I want."

Chodo Habat considered for a moment, then told Moza to get money, and gave me five hundred credits of bribe money. It was more than I thought I'd need, but I resolved to give the money back if it turned out I didn't require it all.

Atton bumped his elbow into my arm. Low enough that Chodo wouldn't hear, he muttered, "Smooth." I glared at him.

Bowing to Chodo, I thanked the Ithorian.

/I'm sorry there is not more that I can do,/ he said. /But I hope for your success./

As we headed out, Atton asked me, "Why didn't you ask him about a shuttle to the surface?"

"Do you honestly think he'd let us go until we'd taken care of this?" I replied. "It's pretty cut and dried, Atton. Czerka and the Ithorians can't both get what they want for Telos, so they can't coexist. One or the other of them has to go down, and yesterday I decided which one when I got the droid for Chodo Habat instead of Jana Lorso. By fourteen hundred hours, Station time, there wasn't any going back, and now I've got to do this last bit both to get out of here and in the simple interest of self-preservation."

"I get that," Atton said. "Still, it's a lot of responsibility. Doesn't it make you want to run? You know, leave it all behind. Go somewhere no one knows your name?"

"I did that for ten years," I told him. "Then the galaxy decided without me that I was the last Jedi in it, and now I deal." I paused, fingered the lightsaber fixture in my pocket. "Actually, I'm rather enjoying myself," I added, surprised as I realized it was true.

When we got back to the apartment, Kreia was waiting, in her own brown robe again and hooded as usual. "What has happened? Where does our path now lead?" she wanted to know.

"The cantina, if you want to come." Kreia opened her mouth to object, and I laughed at her. "No—Kreia, don't look like that. It's business. I'm not going on a midday drinking binge when we need to focus on getting off Station."

"Very well, I shall accompany you," she announced.

"What, ready to leave the room now you've got your hood back, Kreia?" Atton jibed. "Yeah, I understand. If I had your face, I wouldn't want people to see it, either."

Kreia swept past him regally, and I followed her, shooting Atton a glare.

It was pretty easy to find Corrun Falt. He was sitting in the center of the cantina in one of the lounge chairs, sipping his drink in his Czerka uniform for all to see. He was a well-groomed, dark-haired man about my age, but his eyes were cold. Atton went to go play pazaak with the Twi'lek at a nearby table, and Kreia loomed in a corner. But I went to the lounge chair across from Falt and sat down.

He looked up in surprise. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, taking in my armor and blaster.

I hadn't bargained on Corrun Falt not knowing who I was. I was pleased he didn't, though. It gave me a decided advantage, but it also proved Chodo Habat's information correct. Lorso and Falt didn't get along.

"Yes, actually," I said. "I was told by a reliable source that you might be able to help me get some information on the corporation." I gestured at his uniform and sat back in my chair, waiting.

"What?" Falt asked, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"You're Corrun Falt, right?" I asked, pointlessly, as it was printed on his nametag. "Second-in-command at the Czerka Citadel branch. Not too fond of your boss. Well, there are some files I'd like to get my hands on. Files I imagine wouldn't make Jana Lorso look too good to the public."

He gaped like a Selkath for a moment, then looked around. "Wait," he said, lowering his voice. "Are you talking about accessing the mainframe? The Czerka mainframe? You're crazy! Who are you, some kind of slicer?"

I looked him steadily in the eye. "Who and what I am is no concern of yours. It's better for you if you don't know, actually. All you need to know is that I'm looking for some dirt, and I think you wouldn't object too strenuously to showing me where to find it."

Falt sat back hard. "Well," he muttered, "I'm sure there are a dozen sorts of dirt on Lorso in the mainframe. But it's a closed system."

I waved a dismissive hand. "There is _always_ a way in. What's mine?"

Falt stared at me. "This is a joke, isn't it? You're CSD, right? Loyalty test?"

"Not at all," I assured him. "Complete outsider. Off-worlder, out of company, but our goals are compatible. I want dirt on Lorso, and—"

Corrun Falt had started looking thoughtful now. He was a man that suddenly sees a means to an end he's been looking for for a long time. He snorted, though. "And I want Jana Lorso looking dirty. Right. Right." He leaned forward. "Look, this is a risky proposition. I'd be sticking my neck out. Way out."

"Yeah, well, nobody likes a boss that's as compromised as she is," I argued. "If she's dirty, best to get it out in the air _so someone decent can take over_." I waited.

That decided him. Corrun Falt wasn't quite a Luxa, but he was still a dissatisfied underling waiting for his big break. They were all the same. "Yeah, yeah," he agreed. "You're right. 500 credits and I'll find you a way in. No negotiating. Take it or leave it."

"How about 300?" I said immediately.

"Didn't I say no—"Falt started, but the idea had got into his head now. Czerka without Jana Lorso, with himself in charge. "Oh, forget it," he said. "300 it is."

I grabbed 300 of the credits Chodo Habat had given me and handed them over without complaint. I'd be able to give the Ithorian priest 200 change.

Corrun Falt leaned forward and dropped his voice still lower. "All right. Other than Jana Lorso, only B-4D4 has free access to the mainframe," he told me. "He's a protocol droid. Her administrative assistant. If you controlled B-4D4, you could walk right in."

I liked the idea. I wouldn't even have to enter the office. "Or he could walk right in," I murmured. "How do I get to him, though? I'd need to reprogram him."

"Nearly all the Czerka technicians are planet-side these days," Falt explained. "Working the Restoration Zones we've taken from the Ithorians. We've contracted out the maintenance for the office's protocol and utility droids. The guy, Chano, lives in the apartments in Residential 082. Unit 2B, I think. If you had his credentials, B-4D4 would leave with you willingly."

I stood. "Then he could get the files and walk right out, no blood shed. Thanks, Corrun."

I saw him start to realize he may have made a mistake in a fit of ambition and pique, and hurried away. "Wait—who are you?" he called after me, but I was long gone, and Kreia and Atton with me.

Obtaining the credentials was easy enough, though expensive. Chano didn't care for Czerka, and he was sympathetic to the Ithorian initiative. However, he was fearful for his job and he owed money to the Exchange. Off-world, so though I tried telling him the Telosian Exchange was history, it was no dice. Kreia scowled a lot, but I don't like leaving anyone to the Exchange, and I had the credits on hand (ironically because I'd lifted them from the Exchange offices that morning). So I paid Chano's debt in exchange for his credentials. I told him he wasn't obligated to repay me, and made him swear instead not to take out money from the Exchange again. Of course, there was no way I could be sure he'd keep his promise, but I thought as I left Chano's apartment that he would try, at least for a while. No one likes being in debt to the Exchange.

I was able to slip into Czerka's offices just before closing and slip out with B-4D4. The hope was that in the confusion of quitting time, and given all the trouble I'd stirred up for the company that morning, no one would notice the protocol droid's absence until the next morning, when he'd be back, but reprogrammed.

We took B-4D4 to the Ithorians. Chodo realized at once what the plan was. He clapped his hands together in delight. /Ah, this is Czerka's protocol droid!/ he cried. /A most clever tactic. I'll have a droid technician reprogram it to return to their offices and access the mainframe for us./

I bowed. "You do that. You know where to find me when it's done. Good luck. Oh—"I reached into my pack and brought out Chodo's change. "I was able to bribe the official with less than we thought. Here's your money. Put it back into the Restoration Effort."

From what I understand, the Ithorians programmed B-4D4 with the ability to lie, and then sent him off to retrieve the files from the Czerka mainframe the next morning. I don't know what happened there, but he was apparently successful, because the Ithorians called at 1000 hours to report that B-4D4 had retrieved the files, and to request me to come in. I was very happy the droid had completed his mission, because time was running short for me. At 0900 hours that morning, I'd gotten another call from the TSF. Lieutenant Grenn had reported to me that the Republic vessel _Sojourn_ had finished its investigation of the Peragus incident. They had come to the same conclusion as the TSF, that is, that I had not actually blown up the fuel station and killed all those people. Nevertheless, they had entered the hyperspace tunnel the day before and were due to emerge over Telos at 1800 hours. Docking would take a few hours, but Grenn had seemed positive that I could expect the Republic the next morning. I was almost certain that unless I got off the station before the evening, I might as well kiss my independence goodbye. And if the state of the TSF was any indication of the Republic's facility as protectors, I could hardly trust them to take care of me with all the enemies chasing me.

In the interests of getting off station, therefore, I had sent Kreia and Atton to haunt the docking bay. I'd sworn I would push for the shuttle, and I'd headed to the Ithorian compound alone to do so.

When I walked into the compound, Chodo Habat was waiting for me. He greeted me formally again for the first time since we'd met, gripping both of my forearms. /I and all my herd thank you, Darden Leona,/ he said. /When they see the files you have helped us to obtain, the Telosian authorities are certain to expel Czerka from Telos and Citadel Station. Our work can begin again./ He handed a chip to Moza and bowed formally. /Moza, please take these to the Citadel Station TSF immediately,/ he said with a note of triumph in his voice.

/As you wish, Chodo,/ said Moza. /I will return when it is done./

/The Restoration Project is still in some danger,/ Chodo said to me, /Citadel Station requires a new source of fuel—but at least Czerka will be gone. Even they can do nothing in the face of such indisputable evidence./

"Once I'm off station, I'm going to look for fuel," I told him. "Among other things." I paused realizing I might not be able to mount a full-scale search, and amended, "That is, I'll keep an eye out. I didn't blow up Peragus, but if I hadn't happened to be there, that mining station would still be fine. But I'm glad I could help you here. I think what you're trying to do is great."

The leathery skin around Chodo's eyes wrinkled in an Ithorian smile. /And now we shall help you. I have heard that the ship you arrived on is missing—hidden somewhere on Telos. I know one who could help you find it, and a means by which you could travel to him./

I couldn't help but think it was about damn time, but I listened politely as Chodo continued.

/When Citadel Station was developing the shield system it uses to protect the Restoration Zones, they worked with a Zabrak ex-military engineer named Bao-Dur./

My blood ran cold.

/Bao-Dur designed and oversaw the installation of the shield system's planet-side components. His knowledge of Telos' surface and shield grid is unparalleled. If there is anyone who could locate your ship on Telos' surface, it is he. He is a friend, and may be trusted./

I finally managed to shake off my astonishment long enough to bark a laugh. "Don't I know it," I managed, barely. "I—I've worked with him before. He didn't always design planet shields to help things build and grow." I laughed again. "It had to be him, didn't it? Oh, somewhere the Force is laughing at me."

* * *

_"Bao-Dur," Aithne mumbled, "Bao-Dur." She'd gone behind the partition sometime before and changed into looser, more comfortable robes. But now she rummaged through the bedding on the cot where she and Darden sat facing one another, and found her pack. She pulled out the holo-record she'd used to identify Darden with, put it aside, and kept digging. Darden waited patiently as she did this. _

_ Aithne pushed the button, and another profile came up. A young Zabrak, tall and solid with fierce yellow eyes, in an engineer's jumpsuit, came up on the holo, rotating slowly. "I knew I knew the name," Aithne murmured. "I'd wanted to find him, too, to talk about what went on in the Wars. Not as much as you—I don't think I knew him personally. Yes," she said, scanning the scrolling stats. "Graduated top of his class five years before the norm. Several patents to his name already by the time the wars began. Originator and designer of the Mass Shadow Generator. Oh, Darden—"she trailed off, shutting off the holo and replacing it with Darden's in her pack._

_ "Yeah, I wasn't thrilled," Darden said. "Not that I hated Bao-Dur or anything—in fact I'd liked him rather well. But there I was, after trying to run away from Malachor for ten years, faced with an inevitable reunion. 'Course, Chodo didn't know. He hadn't caught the galactic memo about me that seemed to be circulating then. He'd just sensed I was a Jedi disconnected from the Force. He was a little confused about my reaction…_

* * *

/I do not understand you./

"Never mind," I said. "Where is Bao-Dur?"

For a moment Chodo tried to figure out why I would have such a strong reaction to Bao-Dur, but then he gave up. He was too polite to press. /Bao-Dur should be on Telos' surface. I believe he is at one of the currently Czerka-held Restoration Zones, RZ-0031./

Like I said, Aithne, I wasn't particularly eager to see Bao-Dur again. But the Force had thrown him into my path now, when I needed him. I couldn't be certain, though, that he wouldn't feel the exact same way about running into me as I felt about running into him, and he _didn't _need me. "Will he help me?" I asked Chodo.

/He has been our ally in our struggle against Czerka,/ Chodo said, seemingly puzzled. /If you tell him that I sent you, he should be willing to help./

"Just what is he doing down there in Czerka-held territory, anyway?"

Chodo's head drooped a little. /He grew weary of the Telosian government's reluctance to quickly resolve our contract dispute with Czerka,/ he explained. /Perhaps as a Zabrak, he does not have our patience. When we last spoke, he said he would contact Czerka and handle the matter himself. How he intended to do this, I do not know. I have not seen him since./

Now, though I'd known Bao-Dur and liked him well enough, I hadn't known him well. I hadn't had much to do with him besides weapons planning at the very end of the war. I didn't and don't blame him for what he did at Malachor, Aithne. How can I? But anyone that can design a weapon like he did has to have a lot of anger in them. I guessed that after Malachor, even if he was helping to rebuild Telos, perhaps especially if he was helping to rebuild Telos, he still carried that same anger with him. Or more. It wasn't a difficult leap to figure out how Bao-Dur might have tried to 'handle the matter himself.' I hoped he hadn't died.

But I had to act like he would be there. "You said you could help me get to him. How?" I asked Chodo. "If he's in one of the Czerka Restoration Zones—"

/I will allow you to use one of our orbital shuttles,/ Chodo Habat said. /It has no hyperdrive, but will allow you to descend to the planet's surface and make a return trip to Citadel Station. I must point out that this is illegal. Landing on the planet's surface without permission is forbidden, and we no longer control that Restoration Zone, as you have said. Please be as discreet as possible. The closest shuttle is in—/

"Bay 2, Dock Module 126," I finished. "I saw it when I picked up your droid."

/Even so,/ Chodo agreed. /I will call ahead and have the ship prepared for you./

I hesitated to leave, however. Looking to the left where Moza usually stood, I said, "You had Moza tell me that you would try to heal me?"

The skin around Chodo's eyes wrinkled again. /Indeed, and I have not forgotten the promise that I made to you,/ he said. He put his hands on my shoulders. /When you first stood before me, you opened my eyes to a hurt almost as great as the planet's. Your wound…I can feel the immensity of your loss. Yet I can feel that you are slowly regaining what you have lost, and that, in time, you may fully heal./

/Perhaps your time here has helped,/ he said. /I believe that it has. I think that I can help in your recovery, at least partially. I must admit, however, that even as the healer of my herd, I have never faced an injury such as this./

"Total severance of the Force from one who once felt it as strongly as anyone in the galaxy," I replied. "It was as though I had lost all my senses after—"I trailed off. Fires danced before my eyes. Crumpling ships. Screams over the comm, and all around me, anger, and hate, and death, and despair.

/In healing a planet,/ Chodo said, /It is a matter of connections. As plants feed animals, and animal populations thrive and grow, life connects and expands. The living web of the Force. I have walked in the growing Restoration Zones and felt the fullness of life, and perhaps that connection will help make you whole again. Perhaps you will find more than you think on the surface. You, I, my herd, helped to build that, the life of the planet./

He squeezed my shoulders. /Though we describe the restoration as a process, we are, in truth, opening Telos to the Force. Thus, I believed I could help you. That perhaps through your work with the planet and my guidance, I might restore some part of the Force to you./

It was true that during my work for Chodo, my work for Telos, I had felt the Force more strongly every minute. I had manipulated the Force again for the first time. As Chodo Habat spoke, I could feel the current of life on the Station taking a different path than they would have if I had never gone to Telos. A path of growth more natural than artificial, and more wholesome. My connections to my companions had grown stronger. I could tell I was beginning to learn to relate to others again. Kreia had said more than once that isolation weakens, and connections strengthen a person. I disagreed with Kreia about a lot of things, even then, but I did feel stronger because of what had happened on Citadel Station.

"I think you have, in some ways," I replied to Chodo Habat. "IF there is something more you wish to do, I would allow it, and be grateful."

Chodo bobbed his head. /Let us see what I can do,/ he said. His bulbous eyes closed, and I felt his concentration sharpen. His grip on my shoulders loosened, but something more than physical contact flowed between the two of us for a moment. The air seemed to hum and clarify, and I could hear Chodo Habat's heart pumping blood through his veins, could sense his kindness and simple wisdom. Then the moment passed, and I was merely standing before him again, but the atmosphere around me stayed brightened. /There,/ Chodo said, sounding a little weary. /It is not much, but I feel that my efforts have been somewhat successful./

He released me, and bowed. /Again, thank you Darden Leona. Go with our gratitude./

I bowed deeply, too grateful for words. Quietly, I made my way out of the compound.

On my way to Dock Module 126, I found myself fiddling with the lightsaber fixture in my pocket again. As I'd felt the Force more and more strongly on Telos, I'd started to believe that even if I couldn't rejoin the Jedi Order, couldn't revoke my exile, I might be some sort of Jedi again one day. The shuttle to 126 stops once in Entertainment 081, and on a whim, I got off and headed to the Dobo store. I purchased there a slim, lightweight, double vibroblade. Despite its easy heft, the alloy was strong and durable, and the blade was sharp enough that when I ran my finger along it with the power cell turned off, I cut myself. I decided that I meant to build a lightsaber from the fixture Chodo had given to me, if I could find the parts. But I knew that unless I got in practice with a double-bladed melee weapon again a new lightsaber wouldn't do me a lick of good.

Thirty minutes after I'd left the Ithorian compound, I was about to board the shuttle for the Dock Module when I got a message over my com-link (my com-link, purchased by Atton with my armor so he could take his back).

I accessed it, and beheld the terrified face of Moza the Ithorian. In words so fast I almost didn't understand the Ithorian speech he told me that he had returned to the compound only to find it under attack by nearly a dozen mercenaries. They were slaughtering his brethren. Because the Ithorians were pacifists, largely without even weapons, they were incapable of defending themselves. Chodo Habat had barricaded himself in his office, but Moza was afraid the mercenaries would soon breach the door, and Moza dared not go to him through the other rooms of the compound. He had locked himself in the vivarium—they were dying—would I—

I shut off the com and started running. By giving a shuttle pilot a rather large bribe, I managed to cut down my time to Residential 082 to ten minutes, but by the time I arrived I still didn't hear many Ithorians crying out anymore. I drew my blaster and ducked into the door of the compound.

The mercenaries started firing at me immediately. By dodging behind the door frame, I was able to avoid getting hit right away. I fired around the door, gunning down three, and sprang out of hiding, holstering my blaster pistol and drawing my new vibroblade out of its back-sheath in one movement. There was one droid still in the opening office, and I cut him down. The Ithorian receptionist was lying beneath the desk. He'd been shot through the hip and shoulder, and there was a nasty slice on his arm, but I thought he'd live. I tore through my pack and tossed him a medpac. "Out into the corridor," I ordered. "Go to the terminal. Call the TSF. Hurry."

The receptionist mumbled something that might have been an affirmative and staggered to his feet. I didn't wait for him to leave, but opened the door to the main room of the compound and ducked out of the way again. Several shots came through the opening. Fortunately, now I could hear Ithorians groaning, which meant some of them were still alive. I ducked just as a vibroblade swung over my head and stood back up. I impaled the guy on my vibroblade, and jerked it back out again. I pushed another back with the Force and, drawing my blaster again quickly, shot him. I holstered my blaster again, thinking hard about the lightsaber forms I could recall.

I could remember Shii Cho and Soresu, but I couldn't recall which was which or how I should hold my blade in either. But I was out of time to think about it, so I darted out into the main room and sprang on another merc.

Combat has a rhythm that's hard to forget. If you've been in a war, it's even harder. I fell back into the steps of the old dance as mechanically as a droid falls back into its factory settings after a memory wipe. Blood spurted and Ithorians whimpered, but those were irrelevancies. The rage I felt at this unannounced attack on a defenseless people was a distraction, and I pushed it aside. Instead, I made the combat small. It was my form, their form, and the obstacles in the room. A blaster bolt hit my lower back and was deflected by my armor. I felt it bruise, but I could only be grateful to Atton, because it might have been my spine.

Three minutes after I'd entered the main room the main conflict was over. I looked around at the merc corpses and their droids' chassis', and focused on the Ithorians. It looked like some of them had fled successfully, but there were ten bodies on the ground. Looking more closely, six were definitely dead. Two were dying—bleeding out on the tile. The head wound and the lopped off arm would leak out too much for me to stop with the supplies I had in my bag. In all likelihood they'd die before the TSF made it, if the TSF were coming at all. Two of them, I saw, weren't so badly off, though. One had a fairly severe midsection wound, but he'd had the sense to stanch the blood flow and remain still on the ground. The other, a female, was even now climbing to her feet. She'd taken a slice to the thigh, but it looked shallow, and otherwise she was fine. I tossed her two medpacs.

"Do what you can for him," I told her, nodding at the one with the midsection wound. "Make the others as comfortable as possible. If the TSF get here, direct them to the vivarium and Chodo Habat's office."

The Ithorian female tried to stammer out thanks, but I was already headed to the vivarium.

The door had only just been breached. Moza and an Ithorian female were cowering in the corner, and two droids and a merc were closing in. I shot the merc, and cut the cores out of both droids, thanking the Force I'd splurged for the non-conductive grip.

/Darden Leona!/ Moza cried. /I had thought you perhaps would not come!/

"Have they gotten through to Habat yet?" I asked urgently, seeing the vivarium terminal was active. "You've been monitoring things."

/They breached the door two minutes ago,/ Moza said, /And closed and locked it behind them./ He reached into his robe and brought out a key card. /This will get you inside, but I fear it may already be too late./

I grabbed the key card and ran for Habat's office. At least, I thought, if they'd only breached the door two minutes ago, I'd already been here. Maybe they'd waited. I swiped the key card and ducked as the door opened.

I was too slow. I'd been right. The merc leaders had heard me enter the compound, had heard their companions dying. They'd been waiting for me. A woman had been by the door with a vibroblade. She swung it at neck-level when the door opened. Only the fact that the top of my head is about where the average person's neck is saved me from a beheading. The vibroblade grazed the very top of my forehead then whistled through my hair. There was a stinging pain, then blood began to gush. Head wounds always bleed a lot.

My stroke at the woman was a little more fatal, though.

There were two more. One was a hard-faced, big man with a brutal jaw and close-set eyes. The other was a tall woman with a long scar that ran from the corner of her right eye to right beneath her ear.

The woman gave a loud, incredulous, angry laugh. "This is it, then? This is your help, Habat? You're the Jedi?" she demanded of me.

I swiped a hand at my forehead, trying to keep blood out of my eyes.

"You've caused us a hell of a lot of trouble, schutta," the man said.

My bangs were sticking in the blood from the slice on my forehead, and blood was running down them, dripping on my cheek in a most distracting manner. "Your friends are dead," I ground out. "The Exchange is kaput, and I think the Telosian government is probably even now signing off on the order to kick your bosses off-world. The TSF ought to be here any minute. Just—just give it up. There's no one to pay you now, and if you leave you can probably get out with your lives, at least. It's a better chance than you gave these Ithorians."

I spied Chodo Habat hiding beneath his desk like the receptionist, and moved so I was between him and the mercenaries.

The man laughed as angrily as his companion. "I don't think so," he said. "We were paid in advance for this job, and we owe you one, 'Jedi.' More than one."

My head throbbed, but I ducked as the man pointed his blaster at me and fired. I ran at him, swiped my vibroblade at his blaster hand. He'd shielded, though, so it was absorbed. He kicked out at me, and I caught his leg on my vibroblade. It didn't cut him, but I jimmied up the blade to lever him onto his back. He wasn't expecting that. He fell, and feeling out with the Force, I overloaded his shield with energy, and it died. I stabbed down into his throat just as the blood from my forehead dripped into my eyes at last.

Instinctively I jumped back, and the woman's vibroblade came down on my armored shoulder instead of my head. I swiped up with my vibroblade and felt it hit the woman's—her vibroblade left her hand.

A bolt tore through my right calf, then. Panicking upon being disarmed, the woman merc had drawn her blaster with her left hand and fired at random. She was afraid, and right-handed, so she'd missed killing me, but hit my leg.

My leg burned with pain. I swiped the blood out of my eyes again and found my opponent. I shoved out with the Force, threw the woman into a wall, drew my own blaster, and fired. The merc's body slumped to the floor.

Gritting my teeth, I limped over to Chodo Habat's desk. I extended a hand to the Ithorian and helped him out.

He looked around. /I never imagined Czerka would resort to this!/ he cried. /They will stop at nothing to sabotage our efforts!/

"Dying throes," I told him. "Chodo—I think we made them mad." I laughed a little hysterically, and winced as the vibration throbbed through my body.

/They were instructed to destroy and kill everything they found in here,/ Chodo said. /This time they have gone too far. If the Telosian authorities are told about this, they will surely have no choice but be forced to action. Ah, Moza! You are safe!/

This as Moza had entered soberly. /Many are not,/ the younger Ithorian said sadly. /At least six of our herd have died this day, and perhaps more. But thanks to Darden Leona, you and I are both unharmed. I am glad to see it. The TSF have arrived and are currently administering aid to the wounded in the main room./

I breathed in sharply. Now the Ithorians were safe, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to the TSF. Not with the Ithorian shuttle waiting in Bay 2 to take me to an illegal Restoration Zone hours before the arrival of the _Sojourn_.

/Bring them here, Moza,/ Chodo said. /Once we have explained what has happened here, they will have to see the evil they have allowed onto the Station. They must stop them./

/I will go to them,/ Moza said, leaving.

I grabbed Chodo's shoulder. "Is there another way out?" I hissed. "The compound. There has to be an alternate exit—some way I can get out without going past the TSF!"

Chodo blinked, then bobbed his head. /Of course. With the mercenaries here I could do nothing, but behind this terminal is an exit to a personal shuttle of mine that goes directly to the Docks. I use it when I wish to travel to the surface. You are wounded, however. Would it not be better to wait for the TSF? They could give you medicine. Or I could do something?/

I started to shake my head, but then decided that was probably a bad idea. "No. If I see them now, I won't be able to leave. I have to—it'd take too long to explain."

Chodo looked at me, not understanding, but willing to help me anyway. He gripped my arm and helped me to the shuttle he had indicated, in a tunnel off the terminal room. /I thank you again, Darden Leona. I feared that you had already boarded the shuttle to the Restoration Zone, and we would be helpless to defend ourselves./ His head drooped. /You must know there is little more I can give you but my herd's eternal gratitude and wishes that you will find your ship on the planets surface./

He helped me into the shuttle, which looked like a new, automatic model. "Chodo, I only pushed for help these last few days because I needed to leave," I told him. "I'm not in this for credits or a reward, but there are people after me, and I've been here too long already. It's been my pleasure, though. My genuine pleasure. I hope we meet again. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get here sooner—"

There were footsteps outside the door. Chodo closed the shuttle door on me. /Those of my herd that fell today will live on through the Force,/ he said, moving to the terminal. /As for you, Darden Leona, may you have safe travels. Until we meet again./

He pressed a button, and the shuttle started moving. I accessed my com-link, paging Atton's. He came on-screen. "I'm—on my way," I said, weary. "We've got access—I—"

Atton's expression changed from inquisitive to concern like lightning. "You're hurt!" he exclaimed. "What happened?"

He looked almost panicked. I bit my tongue, took in a breath, and managed to find enough strength to keep my voice steady when I spoke again. "Head wounds always bleed a lot," I told him. "It looks worse than it is. I'm fine. I'll be there in less than half an hour. Just be in the shuttle and ready to fly. The TSF might be coming."

"What happened?" Atton pressed.

"I'll tell you later," I said. "Signing off." I couldn't keep my voice steady any longer. I shut off the com-link. Moving slowly, I took my last medpac out of my pack. I broke it open, drawing out the roll of gauze and the disinfectant. Painfully, I rolled down my boot. I'd need a new pair—the woman merc's blaster bolt had burned right through the hide. I held my calf in my hands, pressing the flesh together, feeling the hole the bolt had drilled in my leg. I sensed the damaged cells, imagined them knitting themselves together, duplicating at a faster-than-normal rate to regrow the tiny veins and arteries, the muscle, and the skin. At first it started to work. The cells began to respond. But then the Force slipped away from me, like an echo, and I was grasping at air.

"Dammit!"

**You are more injured than you would have us believe, **Kreia spoke into my mind. **You forget I feel your pain.**

** Didn't want you to worry, **I thought back at her. I sent an image of Atton's concerned face. **He was about to lose it as it was, and with the TSF, we didn't have time for him to try to come meet me. I don't know why he's so bothered about me. **My uneasiness and confusion about Atton started bleeding over the link. I wished for him to start acting with the sense I thought he possessed, instead of—I cut off the train of thought, because I was still connected to Kreia. **It's not like I'm going to die. I've had—worse than this.**

** Yes, **Kreia replied. Her own thoughts were tightly sealed behind a mental wall. Her words were the only thing of her that I could sense in my head. **You are strong, and will recover. Nevertheless, if we are to flee this place, you will need your strength. It evades you: how to manipulate the Force into binding flesh and sinew together again. Battle you recall; healing will come more slowly. For now, take what strength you need from me. We will discuss how you might use the Force in the future to shape your physicality, persuade it to health again after injuries such as these.**

Her voice withdrew from my mind, but in its place strength and knowledge welled up, like a fountain. I could sense Kreia willing me back to health. I pressed a hand to my forehead to find that the vibroblade slice had stopped bleeding and was starting to close up. I put my hands to my leg again, and willed it to repair itself with strength borrowed from Kreia. This time, the cells kept responding, and my leg itched as the Force worked in it, knitting it together naturally, if more speedily than the process would have done otherwise. I dug my canteen out of my pack and picked the roll of gauze from the medpac up again. I wet it, and started scraping blood away from my healed wounds.

* * *

_"It actually turned out that I didn't have to tear out of Citadel Station like that," Darden said, making a face. "I didn't find out for a couple months that higher-ups in the Republic Naval Fleet had decided the best strategy was to leave me alone. Meeting with them wouldn't have cost me anything, and I might have gotten some good help with the Sith problem. The captain of the _Sojourn_ actually would have been more than willing to give me support." _

_ Aithne looked sharply at Darden. Darden only blinked at her. "So you met this…captain…later?" Aithne asked._

_ "Later," Darden said, keeping her face impassive. _

_ "Force, that's annoying," Aithne said. "The way you just go blank like that—you're even—it's almost like you're blanking out in the Force, too. All I can sense from you are…pazaak cards. Hey—where'd you learn that?"_

_ "Later," Darden said again, smiling this time. "I've noticed, as I've been talking. Every single thing you think shows up on your face and in the Force. Is that why you really wore the mask?"_

_ Aithne laughed. "Honestly, it might have been," she said. "It's probably my greatest weakness—I can't even fake diplomacy or political correctness. Got me into some trouble on Coruscant after the war. You can't avoid offending people even if you keep your mouth shut, if your face shouts everything for you." She elbowed Darden gently. "So—you went to RZ-0031. And?"_

_ "Remember those military bases on Telos' surface?" Darden asked._

_ Aithne nodded._

_ "Yeah—Czerka'd got an AD tower working. They shot us down. We crashed. First thing I remember about Telos' surface…_

* * *

**Coming 5/12: Darden relates her crash into RZ-0031 and the adventures that transpired, including her reunion with Bao-Dur, also a tech-savvy veteran, but even more unused to dealing with others than Darden! **

**Thanks for reading.**

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	10. IX

**Disclaimer: If I claim to own this material, may Czerka shoot me down.**

* * *

IX.

The General Again

_"Good to have you back, General." The voice that called me out of unconsciousness was quiet, gentle, and it was also familiar. It was important enough that I blinked and sat up. My head hurt like an all-night drinking binge and a ronto stampede. I put a hand to my head, and felt the last of the scar from the vibroblade earlier that day (or the day before—I still don't know), vanish. It was daylight, though I knew that didn't signify anything. We might have landed on the other side of the planet from Citadel Station. I tried to organize my thoughts, which were doing some sort of clog dance._

I remembered we'd been flying to RZ-0031, but I wasn't sure if we'd made it or not. "Yeah," I muttered to the person that had spoken, trying to focus and almost falling back over. "What happened?"

A large, rough hand reached out and steadied me, and I looked over into staggeringly golden eyes set in a gray, craggy face topped with several white horns. "Easy now," Bao-Dur the ex-military Zabrak engineer, and inventor of the Mass Shadow Generator, said in his surprisingly soft voice. "You survived one spectacular crash. Lucky I was here to pull you and your friends out of that shuttle or you'd be more than a little crispy. But it's only fair. I owe you more than one, General."

I stretched, trying to displace the aches all throughout my body. "Darden," I replied. "It's just Darden."

Bao-Dur's mouth quirked self-mockingly. "You must be in shock from the crash," he said. "Have to expect some long-term memory loss from that. Too bad she's not a droid, huh?" he added to the little remote hovering over his shoulder. It beeped fuzzily, and he smiled. "We can't all be that lucky. I'll humor you, General. I was one of the Iridonian mechanic corps that was at Malachor. Bao-Dur? I can see how you'd forget me, being as I was the only one."

I looked right at him and given the order, Aithne. His face, his masterpiece are graven into my memory forever. "No, I remember you," I corrected. "It's still just Darden."

Bao-Dur got it then, and the hurt left his eyes. "Yeah, I don't like to talk about the war, either," he agreed. "We all went through some tough times after Malachor. Maybe it's best if we forget. Guess that's one thing we've got better than droids—they can't forget anything." He shrugged. "But then you give them a memory wipe and they forget for good."

I tried to stand, but my head was still reeling, and when I tried to move my stomach swooped ominously. Bao-Dur grabbed my shoulder again, easing me back down. "How are the others?" I asked.

"They'll be fine," he promised, gesturing behind me with—I blinked. Bao-Dur's left arm was gone. It had been replaced with an electric monstrosity that looked like it had been based off of shield technology. The arm blazed with energy and ended in a metal fist, but even as I stared the fingers moved. I stared, wild to know how it worked, but Bao-Dur was talking, telling me about Atton and Kreia behind me. I forced myself to refocus on his face. "The pilot's more or less unharmed and the old lady, well, she's tougher than she looks. You know, I never thought I'd see you again, General. Galaxy's a big place, and this is the last place I thought I'd bump into you. So I have to ask, just what are you doing here?"

"Well I'll tell you one thing: I'm _not_ serving as the general of anybody or anything," I said. My stomach churned when he called me that. "I _am_ looking for my ship."

Bao-Dur looked behind me, and I could smell burnt metal and singed turf. "Got some news for you, General. That shuttle of yours is done for—scrap."

Someone groaned behind me. "Well. This is familiar. Feels like my last time on Telos."

Throwing Bao-Dur's steadying hand off, I whirled. Atton sat up, and then stood. Bao-Dur had told the truth. He was fine. He had a nasty lump above his left eyebrow, and the front of his shirt had been singed, but he'd be fine. He staggered over to me and extended a hand to help me to my feet. The nausea mostly dissipated, I took it, and stood. Bao-Dur stood, too.

"Crashed a shuttle that time, too?" he asked pleasantly.

"No, pazaak," Atton said, which didn't inform either of us of anything.

I looked at Bao-Dur as Kreia climbed to her feet heavily, too. "Bao-Dur, Atton Rand," I said. "Atton, Bao-Dur."

"That was not the most pleasant landing I've endured," Kreia said venomously. "Next time, we should perhaps seek out a more reputable pilot."

Kreia was bleeding from a slice on her cheek. I went to her and grabbed her right hand, willing her to heal, but the Force didn't respond. Kreia had blocked the connection between us. She wasn't going to let me heal her. I glared at her, and threw over my shoulder to Bao-Dur, "This is Kreia. They don't like each other very much."

At almost the exact same time Atton snapped at Kreia, "You're welcome, Kreia. You know, if I weren't such a crack pilot, we could have hit the shield wall or one of those rock faces."

"Yes, our current situation is a vast improvement," Kreia said acidly, effectively proving my point.

I sighed. "Play nice, you two. Something shot us down. What was it?"

Kreia raised her hand to her face and her cut sealed itself up. She didn't reply.

Atton looked back at the shuttle. "Beats me," he said. "No one's supposed to be here but a Czerka research team. I can't say they'd be happy to see us—"I snorted at this. "—but shooting us down? I can't imagine Czerka having us shot down by a bunch of scientists, either. You know, I caught a glimpse of what looked like an AD tower when we flew over the compound."

I rolled my shoulders and tilted my neck from side to side. "So. The research station has an AD tower. Of course it does. How much you want to bet one of Czerka's 'abandoned' military bases is around here?" I looked over at Bao-Dur and smiled ruefully. "This sort of thing's been happening to me a lot lately."

"Yeah, no kidding," Atton said emphatically. "I wouldn't want to bet against the military base thing. If they've got an old AD tower working again, it's pretty safe to say that they're doing something they shouldn't be. I've seen pirate bases with the same sort of set-up."

I was grateful I'd been wearing my pack in the crash, because it was on the ground beside where I'd been when I'd woken up. I picked it up, glad I'd stuffed food from the apartment in it. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with it," I said. "We have to find the _Ebon Hawk_."

My new vibroblade and my old blaster were lying on the ground a little ways away, too. I picked them up. Bao-Dur saw the vibroblade, and frowned. "I can help you find your ship," he offered. "I have access to the shield network. I came hoping to repair whatever damage your shuttle took, but not even I can fix that wreck."

I looked the engineer over. Bao-Dur would of course be a big help, but I didn't like him calling me General. I didn't want to talk about the war and neither did he, but if I knew Kreia she'd use my discomfort about the whole thing to start some sort of lesson about the pain of the past and how I could draw knowledge and strength from what it had to teach me, as if I couldn't already write the book on all that. As for Atton, he'd already displayed considerable curiosity about my past. I thought not asking me was taking all the questionable willpower he possessed, and for some reason, I found myself really, _really_ disliking the idea of discussing the war with Atton. But I couldn't even look at Bao-Dur without thinking of the war, and I imagined it was the same for him.

Still, I needed his help more than I needed to be comfortable. So, feeling about five kilos heavier, I nodded. "So. You know the area. What's the plan?"

Bao-Dur jerked his head to the west. "We'll have to get back to the compound. It's the old Ithorian research station, turned into a salvage team staging area. It won't be an easy hike."

"What's the layout?"

"First there's the mercenary pursuit team looking for me," Bao-Dur said. "If Czerka's secured the compound, there could be a lot of them out there. Second, there's all the cannoks."

You know cannoks, right, Aithne? The barrel-shaped garbage disposals from Dxun? Goggle-eyed, puke-yellow, with splay-legs that you wouldn't think could propel them as far as they can, and a mouth full of very nasty teeth. Eat everything and travel in packs. I groaned. "Not those!"

"Yeah, the Ithorians imported them to keep the herbivore population in check," Bao-Dur confirmed.

"What's keeping the cannok population in check?" I asked, sweeping a gaze over the landscape. "I don't see any herbivores."

Bao-Dur looked grim. "Now they'll eat anything they can catch," he said. "Including us. Without the Ithorians to maintain the accelerated ecosystem's balance, everything here is falling apart. Czerka's killing the Restoration Project piecemeal."

Atton snorted. "Not anymore they're not," he muttered.

Bao-Dur looked inquiringly at me. I felt my face go a little hot. "I—did a few things, station-side," I admitted. "Dug up some stuff. If the Telosian government wants to maintain any sort of moral authority, they'll be kicking Czerka off the planet—and off the Station—right about now. But that's not the problem now. The goal now is to get past the obstacles and find the _Ebon Hawk_."

"You got it, General," Bao-Dur said.

Out of the corner of my eye, Atton's gaze shifted from Bao-Dur to me and back again. He opened his mouth to ask a question, then shut it. Feeling a bit sick, I stepped ahead of Atton so he was out of my line of vision. "Lead on, then," I told Bao-Dur.

Bao-Dur started away from the shuttle, but almost immediately he pointed ahead, where two cliffs met forming a shallow canyon. I just barely saw the triangular droid floating away down it. "Just keep going, Bao-Dur," I told him. "We'll deal. Kreia? Atton? You up for a fight if one comes?"

"Do we have much choice?"

"I am ready for battle," Kreia answered.

I shifted my grip on my vibroblade, and Atton gestured to it. "When'd you get that, anyway?"

"After I left the Ithorians the first time, before I killed the mercs attacking them," I replied. We'd discussed the mercs before the shuttle crash.

"You're pretty good with a blaster. D'you really need it?" Atton asked.

"If you're expecting to be attacked, it's always good to have a melee weapon on hand. Even if you're—well, me. Besides, I need the practice."

"The forms," Kreia said knowingly. "They are returning to you, are they not? Your body recalls the years of training, even though you have tried so long to forget."

"Quiet!" Bao-Dur hissed as he led us through the grass. He pointed at a group of three or four men about a hundred meters to the left. "Mercenaries. Right where we need to go." He motioned for us all to keep low. "That sentry droid probably spotted us already."

"Great," Atton muttered.

"They were probably looking for me when they saw your shuttle go down."

Atton raised an eyebrow at me. "We could try handing the Zabrak over. You know, bargaining chip?" he suggested. It was impossible to tell if he was joking or not. His face was unreadable.

"Who do you think shot you down in the first place?" Bao-Dur replied, calmly.

"Good point," Atton conceded. "Forget I said anything."

"Besides, you know how much trouble we caused their bosses up there?" I added. "They probably want us just as badly as Bao-Dur. Maybe more."

Just then there was a croaky growl to the right, and I whirled just in time to see a cannok leap out of the grass. Bao-Dur cut it down with his vibroblade. "There'll be more," he warned.

There were actually five more, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that the cannok attack had pretty much sent up a flare for the mercs. They started firing at us, and Atton and I started firing back at them as Bao-Dur and Kreia worked on the cannoks. We kept our backs to the cliff, and when the cannoks were down, ran forward. I pulled out my vibroblade and attacked with Kreia and Bao-Dur.

When the mercs were down, Bao-Dur looked over at me sadly. But he didn't say anything. He just beckoned with his arm. "This way, General."

I lengthened my stride and narrowed the gap so I was walking beside him. "Bao-Dur. It's Darden. Really. Just Darden," I insisted.

I knew it was no good, though, when Bao-Dur smiled. "Sorry. I guess I just can't get my head out of the past," he said.

"What'd you do after the war, anyway? How'd you end up on Telos?"

"I moved around for a couple years," he said. "Working as a starship mechanic got me from place to place. I wasn't ready to settle down after the war."

I blinked. "I…actually did something very similar," I said. "I learned weapons and droids. It's hard to stay still, isn't it? There were a couple of really nice families that would have taken me in, even, but I couldn't find a place that felt like home to me, after…"

"Then you understand my restlessness," Bao-Dur agreed. "Though the war had ended, I couldn't find peace in anything. As long as I kept moving, I didn't have to think about what had happened. You know what I mean?"

The question made me laugh. "Who're you talking to, Bao-Dur?" I asked him. "I know."

Bao-Dur looked distant for a moment, and I knew he'd carried the same images in his head for the last decade that I had. "I'm…sure you do," he said. He paused for a moment, then continued. "I decided to do something constructive. I wanted to make up for the things I'd done in the war. I wanted to design planetary shields, but there weren't many systems with the credits to spare—there was more that needed to be rebuilt than protected." He shrugged. "I found out that Telos was going to be the flagship project for the Republic, and it sounded like something good. I saw Telos before the Sith razed it. It deserved a better fate."

We'd flown over Telos before we'd been shot. I'd seen the planet, Aithne. Outside the fifty-odd restoration zones that didn't cover a quarter of its surface, yet, the planet was bare rock and caustic, acidic air. But I remembered when Telos had been soft shores and gentle hills, full of growing things and farms and farmers and villages and towns and cities. I nodded agreement to Bao-Dur.

"Czerka ruined everything," Bao-Dur said venomously, looking around at the grassland minus any animals save pesky predators. "I thought I could force Czerka out on my own, but I guess I can't fix everything myself."

Atton opened his mouth to say something annoying. By now I knew the expression on his face that indicated it. I glared at him, and he shut up, holding up his hands in surrender. I smiled at Bao-Dur. "You're the most incredible mechanic and designer I've ever known," I told him. "But that probably was reaching a little far. It—I think I'm glad to have met up with you again." The truth of the statement, despite the painful memories, surprised me a little. Somehow, Bao-Dur's wish to protect and build things to make up for what he had done resonated with me. "Yeah, it's good," I decided.

"It's good to be working with you again, General," Bao-Dur returned.

"Cannoks!" Kreia cried. "To the right!"

Four more of the pests sprang up out of the grass. I shot one down, Kreia felled another, and Bao-Dur killed one Atton had wounded. But the fourth—Bao-Dur's little remote, the ball that had been following us ever since we'd met again at the crash site, actually fired some sort of cutting laser at the last cannok and lamed it before Kreia killed it. I whistled, regarding the little hovering orb.

"That's some toy."

Bao-Dur glanced fondly at the remote bobbing over his shoulder. "This old thing? I built him when I was a kid." He started walking again. "Been following me around for years now, despite what I've done to try and chase him off."

The remote beeped indignantly, and Bao-Dur grinned. "Hey, just kidding," he told it. "I'm happy to have you around."

I couldn't help but grin myself. "So. What all does it do? That laser's pretty impressive."

"He helps me out with repairs," Bao-Dur answered. "I outfitted him with the cutting laser and some other tools for delicate modifications, but he's also good for singeing the pants of annoying techs."

"Or cannoks," I laughed. Bao-Dur nodded in agreement, and the remote beeped something brave-sounding.

"I've been thinking of doing some other work on him, but I barely have time. Too busy," Bao-Dur told me.

"Doing what? Shooting mercs on the sly, taking out Czerka supply shuttles?" Atton wanted to know. "Why're they after you, anyway?"

Bao-Dur didn't answer directly. "If the Republic would rein them in there wouldn't be a problem. But as long as they're allowed to undermine the Ithorians' efforts, Telos will remain dead. I can't stand seeing my work being used by those bloodsuckers."

"I don't think it will be, anymore," I said. "Czerka is on their way out, trust me."

"If that's true then Telos owes you one, General."

"So, what's with the arm?" Atton asked.

I glared at Atton. He seemed to be trying to be as rude as possible to Bao-Dur, and I didn't really understand why. But the Iridonian didn't seem to be offended.

"I got tired of it—kept dropping my hydrospanner," he said. "Figured I'd get a new one."

Atton laughed then, and I saw a trace of respect come into his face. "Seriously?" I asked Bao-Dur. "I bet that was…fun."

"Actually, it's a souvenir from Malachor," he told me quietly. "I was lucky it was all I lost."

I found myself slowing, until I fell behind Atton and Bao-Dur, beside Kreia. "Oh—"my voice was smaller than I wanted it to be. Weak. "I…" It was like he'd punched me in the gut, and he was so very right that he'd gotten off easy.

"But it at least gave me something to do, right?" Bao-Dur said quickly, immediately aware how the admission might be affecting me. He looked back at me with concern. "Everyone always said I was probably half machine, anyway. Don't worry about it, General."

"Why would she?" Atton asked. "It's not like it's her fault."

Neither I nor Bao-Dur said anything. Atton looked from Bao-Dur to me, waiting for answer. When he didn't get any, I sensed something change in him. It was almost like a defunct logic system had finally started working in a droid. His expression didn't change at all, but I felt that suddenly it was a mask, that perhaps some things had finally come together for him. I looked away from him, and didn't ask if he understood. He didn't say anything further, though, which either way, I appreciated. Both Bao-Dur and I sped up, and silence fell over the group.

Bao-Dur didn't ask me what I'd been doing, but it was fine, since right then I didn't particularly feel like telling him, or anyone.

We fought cannoks twice more before the silence broke. But then I heard a whoosh, a crash, and the awkward quality of the silence dissipated. It was the sea. RZ-0031 only contained part of the shore, but it was still wonderful to hear. Bao-Dur led us around the corner, and when we caught sight of it, I breathed in the salty air. The tide was going out. The waves were clear and green, and the smell on the air was fresh and renewed my spirits.

Twenty feet out, a shield rose up, so I couldn't see the ocean. I knew the shield went up all the way through the atmosphere and down to the bottom of the ocean. Beyond it was another Restoration Zone, RZ-0030, where the work was with oceanic life instead of grasslands and coastline. But I could feel the ocean, though I couldn't see it. RZ-0030 was still held by Chodo Habat. I could tell by the very sense of the sea. It was sick, but getting better. I sensed fish and plants out in the sea beyond the shield, both predators and prey, struggling, adapting, getting stronger and making their home good and clean again.

On impulse, I ripped off my holey boots and socks and ran over the sand into the surf. I squeezed my toes into the wet sand and felt the cold water lapping over my bare feet and ankles, getting the fiber pants of my armor wet. I didn't care, and I shrieked my delight to the sky in one of those reckless moments of abandon that only happens maybe once or twice a year.

Bao-Dur smiled from the shore. "I always feel a sense of calm when I walk the surface of Telos," he said. "The Ithorians are truly amazing in their work."

Kreia sniffed. I got the distinct impression she glared beneath the ever-present hood of mystery. "Perhaps. It is unimportant. Jedi, you waste time."

"Stuff it, Kreia!" I cried. "The Republic's going to figure out we got shot down and have trouble tracking us for a while, anyway. So will anyone else after us. What's the harm?"

Atton laughed suddenly. "Most days it just seems to me the Ithorians are wasting the Republic's credits," he told Bao-Dur, friendlier now. "But—now that you mention it." I'd started walking in the surf in the general direction Bao-Dur had been leading us before. Atton walked parallel to me on the shore, and he watched me as he addressed Bao-Dur. "I think I feel it, too. Like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't get all sappy on us, Rand. It's okay when Bao-Dur does it, but you?" I kicked water at him, and he dodged, laughing again.

"Hey! I have as much right to be sappy about my inner peace as anybody!"

Bao-Dur held up his hand. "Quiet!" I went still, and Atton did, too. Kreia, of course, the ever-present fun-crusher, had already been still as she radiated disapproval like a transmitter beam. Bao-Dur pointed across the sandy, grassy hill with his iron-hand. "You see them?" he murmured, indicating ten or twelve figures in the distance. "Large mercenary patrol. If we move carefully along the perimeter, we may be able to get by without their spotting us. We could cross along the shore, or—"he traced a path along the cliffs we'd just left, "Head along the cliffs to the south."

If a patrol this large was near, we were close to the salvage stage, and soon there'd be a fight. But just for a while, I didn't want to fight. I wanted to walk on the shore of the sea that was part of RZ-0031, and feel the life in the sea beyond the shield in RZ-0030, and think about how, thanks to what we'd done on Citadel Station, if I came here next year I wouldn't be walking a plain empty of all but mercenaries.

I looked at Kreia pleadingly. The old woman sniffed. "If we can take this path and avoid our enemies, I see no harm in you continuing your foolishness," she conceded. I grinned at her. Fun-crusher, maybe, but not always insistent. I was grateful.

"We'll keep to the shore," I said, keeping my voice low. I didn't want to make any more noise than I already had. So I got out of the water, too, so as not to splash. I dried my feet on my pack and put my boots on. I hadn't got all the sand, so my feet were crusty in my boots. I'd have to find some way to bathe later, but it had been worth it.

Soon thereafter, though, the Telosian leisure hike interspersed with periodic cannok-battling turned to out-and-out mercenary-battling. We made it past the one enormous patrol, but there was a minefield, sentry droids as well as meaner droids, turrets—by the time the old Ithorian compound came into view and the ocean had dropped out of earshot, Aithne, I wasn't even bothering to keep my voice down anymore.

"Well," I said, cutting down yet another droid. "They _really_ don't want anyone to get here, do they? Seriously, it's just a salvage stage. Everyone knows that they're not really helping the Restoration Zone and aren't planning on converting what's here to profit for Telos."

Bao-Dur grimaced. "You don't have to tell me. Look, there's the landing pad. There should be a computer terminal I can access from there. Looks like we're going to have to fight our way there, though."

"What else have we been doing for the last ten minutes?" Atton asked in an acid tone.

Either the patrol had returned, or there were about fifteen other mercs in the way of the landing pad. Either way, it didn't look good. I swallowed. They'd seen us already, so it was no good waiting around and picking them off one by one. I shielded, and behind me my companions did so as well.

The merc in the front of the crew sneered at me. Three of his teeth were missing, and his nose had been broken more than once, so it was pretty intimidating, as far as sneers go. "What do we have here?" he called out over the empty space. "The 'Jedi,' is it? Saves us the trouble of looking for you. Corrun Falt did say you were dangerous…maybe he does know what he's talking about."

"So. He found out who I was after I left, did he?" I answered. "You'd think he'd be grateful I put him in power."

The merc snorted. "With all you did up there he'll be lucky if he lasts the week and he knows it. The whole damn Czerka branch is about to come tumbling down because of you. And our one shot off-world is the credits Falt paid us to keep everyone out of the Restoration Zone—you in particular."

"If you've already got the credits, why stay?" I asked him. "You've failed to keep me out of the Zone; you've presumably got a shuttle. So look, you can tell me what's down here and just leave. I promise I won't tell Corrun Falt on you, and even if I did he couldn't do anything about it."

But the mercs were too angry. Because of me they were out of work, and I'd insulted them. "What's down here?" one mocked. "She wants to know what'd down here."

"You want to know what's down here?" the leader repeated derisively. "A grenade with your name on it, Jedi. Attack!"

It was rough going, Aithne. The mercs were well-armed, well-armored, mad, and they'd already lost a lot of men to me and my companions, so they weren't underestimating us. In addition, there were fifteen of them, and only four of us. We were outnumbered more than three to one. But by this time, I'd begun to get a feel back for using the Force in combat, at least, and I definitely had a feel for how Kreia and Atton fought.

I knew what Atton and Kreia would be doing well enough I trusted them. I knew Kreia focused on the outliers, the ones with grenades or blasters that could take out the group from a distance unless they were taken care of. She used the Force to jump to them and her vibrosword to cut them down before they could draw a melee weapon. I knew Atton would be watching my back. Always. Sometimes this meant he stood a ways away from the heavy fighting blasting the ones coming up on me from behind or the side. Sometimes this meant he was literally at my back, facing the opposite direction and taking out attackers from there. Usually this was with his blaster, but sometimes I heard the grips and grunts that indicated he fought hand-to-hand. I had never seen him fight this way, because he always only used these techniques when he was behind me, but I knew he knew them.

Bao-Dur proved not nearly so predictable. I found myself watching him more than the others, fighting nearer him to make sure he never got overwhelmed. For all the gentleness in his voice, all the brilliance he demonstrated in his work with droids and shields and technology, Bao-Dur was a very, _very _aggressive fighter. I followed him into the thickest fighting and was forced to take advantage of the longer reach of my double-vibroblade both to protect myself and to keep the mercs off Bao-Dur. His attacks were strong, furious. But his defense was very poor, and well bespoke that for most of his life, Bao-Dur had fought with weapons he built that fired and swung themselves.

Nevertheless, I was able to keep him safe. Once or twice I heard a merc go down behind or beside me and knew that Atton was keeping _me_ safe. And when the promised grenade never came, I knew it was down to Kreia. About seven minutes after the merc captain had called for the attack, I stood panting at the base of the landing platform with Bao-Dur, Kreia, and Atton. "Everyone all right? I'm all out of medpacs, but I bet we can find some around here if anyone needs them."

"I am unharmed," Kreia announced. "But you would know if it were otherwise."

I acknowledged this, and Bao-Dur and Atton also said they were fine.

"I'm pretty sure you saved my butt back there a time or two, General," Bao-Dur said. He sounded a little ashamed of himself.

"You saved us from the shuttle," I replied. "Don't worry about it." I gestured toward the landing pad. "Shall we?"

We went up to the ramp and Bao-Dur went straight to the console. "Hopefully I'll be able to access the shield network from this console," he explained, pressing a button experimentally. The display lit up. "Good, it's still functional." He then started typing very, very fast. "And my passcodes still work. Now let's find your ship."

"The TSF said the _Ebon Hawk_ wasn't at any sanctioned landing site," I remembered. "What makes you think you can find it?"

Bao-Dur waved his metal hand impatiently. "The TSF probably thinks the ship was put down in the wastes, but they don't know the planet as well as I do. Telos' atmosphere has been turned into acidic vapor. Landing the ship in the wastes would be like sealing it in a hangar full of hungry mynocks."

Atton nodded, and I remembered that he'd said something similar back in the TSF office. "I'd say there's probably an illegal landing site somewhere, then."

"Exactly," Bao-Dur agreed. "A site still shielded, but not a Restoration Zone or other listed facility. That's why I need access to the shield network." As he talked, Bao-Dur scrolled across the screen, pressed keys. His eyes ran over complicated-looking technical readouts and dismissed them faster than I could even figure out what they were about. Finally he stopped, looked close at something, and satisfied, said, "Here—a small anomaly in the shield network's power grid. I'm not surprised the TSF didn't spot this. It's subtle—more lie an error or a random flux than anything suspicious."

"Where?"

"It looks like the power is being drawn to generate a shield over a small area in the polar region, but nothing should be down there," Bao-Dur said. He logged out of the shield network and pulled up something else. "Orbital cameras show—nothing. Just an empty mesa."

Kreia pursed her lips. "We should investigate this," she said after a moment. "I feel this is the best bet of finding the _Ebon Hawk_."

I was a little more skeptical. "Maybe so, but our shuttle's busted. Even assuming something's up there, how are we going to get to the polar region?"

Bao-Dur was still looking at things on the console. "That's a little tougher," he said. "According to the computer, a shuttle is currently docked inside the research facility—"he nodded over at the building behind the landing pad. "At least, there was at last report. But that was months ago."

"So we don't know if the shuttle's still there," I concluded. "Czerka might've taken it and not updated the records. Or the mercs. Or it might've been scavenged for parts. It might be gone, or it might not be operational."

"That's true," Bao-Dur admitted with a grimace, "But that's not going to stop me. I'm getting back to Citadel if I have to build a new ship myself."

"That's decided then," Atton said. "We should get going."

Bao-Dur logged off the computer, but hesitated. "There's one other small problem," he confessed. "I've been hanging around for a while. Recently, Czerka teams that were sent inside the research facility haven't been coming out again."

Sometimes it seems as if nothing can ever, ever be easy, Aithne. I sighed. "We'll deal," I told Bao-Dur, in what was starting to sound like my mantra.

"It's not like we have any choice," Bao-Dur said.

"Come on."

The base turned out to be rather like Peragus, actually. Silent. Full of rogue droids, rogue turrets, and the odd rotting corpse. It wasn't so frightening this time around because I wasn't alone and half-naked. Companions, armor, and good gear make a big difference. And with Bao-Dur around, shutting down droids and turrets was so much easier. I started wishing I'd met up with the Iridonian a week back in that med bay. It turned out the Ithorians' research station and Czerka's old military base were one and the same, so the droids firing on us were Telosian battle droids, and the turrets were battle droids.

I knew the Ithorians wouldn't have armed the defenses of the base against intruders, so it wasn't until I found the damaged HK-50 unit that I knew what had happened.

I looked it over distastefully and kicked the chassis over. "Another one," I told Atton and Kreia. "They really do work to a pattern. The _Harbinger_, Peragus. Here. D'you think it's me?"

"How could they have tracked us, though?" Atton asked reasonably. "We crashed! No one could've predicted that. Unless—you don't think it shot us down in the first place, do you?"

Bao-Dur knelt to examine the wreckage of the assassin droid. "This model's been here for a while," he said. "A few weeks at least. Much longer than you and your friends have been in the system, General."

"I don't like this," I said. "If there's more than one, more could be coming. I'm not too worried about me—the one on Peragus wasn't half so tough as he thought he was—but left to their own devices these models can kill hundreds of people in days. I mean, what's the damage trail going to be like?"

"That is irrelevant," Kreia said. "We do not know if there are more, and just because the one on Peragus chose to slaughter the station does not necessarily mean that if its brethren track you they will not come for you directly. For now, we should simply add these assassin droids to our list of enemies, and keep moving."

"You're right," I admitted. "Borrowing trouble doesn't do anybody any good. Come on."

We should've borrowed trouble and looked around for where that damn droid came from, Aithne. It might've saved us a lot of trouble and heartache later. But then again, we might have all died.

The shuttle was easy enough to find, and fortunately, according to Bao-Dur, it was serviceable enough to get us to the polar region. After a little more maneuver in the abandoned base, I was able to find the ignition codes, get the base reactor working, and open the hangar doors. This released an enormous tank droid that the Telosians had held in reserve for wars, which had been sabotaged like the others, so only after defeating it were I and the others able to board the shuttle.

Bao-Dur examined the engine more closely, then gave Atton the go-ahead to start her up. I sat in the co-pilot's seat, though Atton had a handle on things. He flew us up into orbit.

"Damn, this is a lot of trouble for a freighter," I muttered. "Please, please, please let the _Hawk _be on the mesa in a secret hangar held by someone who _just _wanted to keep it safe for me. Someone who _really_ likes me and who will just hand the blame ship over the second I ask."

"Sweetheart, hate to tell you this, but the odds aren't great," Atton said.

"I know," I moaned a little. "But I am getting so damn tired of roundaboutation. I'm getting so tired of finding the _other_ way out. It'd be so nice to take the _normal _way out for a change. The easy way out."

"Embrace the challenge," Kreia intoned from where she sat in the back with Bao-Dur. "Through challenge you are strengthened. What use would the easy way out be to one such as you?"

I was unimpressed. "Kreia, I need rest," I told her. "Aside from two days when we were imprisoned under suspicion for killing a planet, we've been going all week. And two days in jail isn't exactly restful, no matter how much sleep you get."

"Under suspicion for killing a planet?" Bao-Dur asked sharply. "What do you mean, General?"

I regretted my choice of words immediately, knowing exactly what he thought. "Not what you think," I assured him. "The Sith are after me, Bao-Dur. They're after all the Jedi. They think I am one; they think I'm the last. They hit an asteroid in the Peragus system firing at us and blew up the mining station."

He was quiet a moment. "That's—unfortunate," he managed finally. "Citadel Station, the Restoration Project, depends on the fuel Peragus provides—provided—to keep going. Without it—"

He trailed off, and I realized what bad news the destruction of Peragus must be to him. Bao-Dur had spent months, maybe years working to help rebuild Telos. My news had to sound like the death of all that time and work to him. "I know," I said. "Besides a way to keep running from the Sith, that's why I want to find the _Ebon Hawk_. The Restoration Project's too big a deal to sink because some Sith were after me and didn't care what got in the way."

Kreia's dissatisfaction pressed into my mind, but I ignored it. I was going to help Telos, and Kreia could just get over it.

"Coming up onto the polar region," Atton said.

Then there was an enormous impact. The smell of burning metal filled my nose, and we were plummeting, plummeting toward the planet below. Again.

* * *

_"You got shot down again? By whom?" Aithne asked._

_ "First time I'm pretty sure it was Czerka. The second time—you'll see."_

_ "I like Bao-Dur," Aithne observed. "Seems like you two had a lot in common, shared history aside, even."_

_ "Bao-Dur—"Darden began, then she stopped. She smiled. "Then he was even more unused to people than I was. It was all circuits and gears to him. I wasn't nearly as bad, but you're right. I understood him. We got along well. At first, it was a little difficult, because he kept calling me 'General,' and that was hard for me to hear. But eventually I got over it." _

_ "Well go ahead," Aithne said. "I want to know about what mess you ran into next."_

_ "The first time, the impact of the shot knocked me out," Darden explained. "The second time it didn't, and when the shuttle started to crash I was able to use the Force to lessen the impact of the crash and keep myself conscious. Still, it shook every bone in my body. Outside I saw the wing burning, but I thought the rear exit might be serviceable…_

* * *

**Coming 5/15: Darden tells Aithne of her crash onto the Telosian polar mesa, and what she found there. Her relation of her conversations with a former historian and a young Echani girl upset the other woman.**

**And 5/19: In desperate need of a break from a tale which is starting to take a mental and emotional toll on her, Aithne proposes a sparring match. **

**To those of you who have wanted to know how Aithne is going to react to the rumors Darden heard of her, X and the interlude to follow will be great chapters for you. Part of the reason Aithne left the known galaxy was to try to leave her first identity behind her. She will find that she carries it with her wherever she goes, and she must face what it means. She tried to deny it in the last year of the Jedi Civil War, for the first two years afterwards. She tried to bury the Jedi, bury the General, bury the Sith, and just be Aithne Morrigan. But when used for that purpose, Aithne Morrigan became the lie the Jedi Council intended her to be, rather than the grace she could have been. **

**I'd like to thank those of you that have been reading and have taken the time to review. It really helps me know what's working and what isn't in my story. If you're reading and haven't reviewed, thank you, too. I hope you're enjoying the story.**

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	11. X

**Disclaimer: I am no Atris.**

* * *

X.

Conviction

_ "Crashed again," I called. "If you're not dead and can hear me, sound off."_

"I am here," Kreia said.

"Unh," Atton groaned.

"Bao-Dur?"

I forced my way out of the crushed co-pilot's seat. "Bao-Dur?"

Bao-Dur had been in the back seat nearest the hit wing. The back of his head was bleeding, and power in his prosthetic arm had been knocked out. His metal fist was lying useless on Kreia's side of the shuttle. I felt his other wrist for a pulse. He was still alive. Out cold, and I judged he probably had a bad concussion, but he'd recover.

"Let's go," I said, as Kreia and Atton broke out of their seats, too. The acrid smell of burning metal was getting stronger, and the inside of the shuttle was starting to heat up. "Help me with him."

I picked up Bao-Dur's metal fist and put it into one of his oversized utility pockets. Then I swung an arm under his shoulder, but of course he was too big for me to do much more than budge him. Atton came over, slightly dazed. "This has got to stop happening," he mumbled. As Kreia broke open the shuttle door, Atton helped me with Bao-Dur. The four of us left the shuttle and emerged into the dazzling white light of the sun on the snow. It was very cold.

"We got to find what's up here," I managed through chattering teeth. "Fast. He won't make it if we don't get somewhere warmer."

"Neither will we," Atton grunted, straining under most of Bao-Dur's weight.

"We are not alone!" Kreia warned.

I'd heard the horribly familiar clanking of durasteel legs, too, very operational HK-50 assassin droids came around the nose of the shuttle.

"Irritated Declaration: There you are. It has been extremely difficult to track you down, Jedi," one said.

"Quick Clarification: But now that we have found you, we hope that we can facilitate communications."

"Unnecessary Addendum: And put an end-"

"An end to hostilities, yeah, yeah, I know," I snapped. "You shot down my vessel. Again."

"Unnecessary Clarification: We merely wished to cripple your vessel. Once we tracked your coordinates, we were able to deploy several droids in this location."

"Probing Query: We are, however, curious as to why you chose to come to the remnants of the polar Telos irrigation system."

"Eager Threat: But we are looking forward to extracting your motives for coming here when we place you in torture restraints."

The HK-50 droids spoke in turn. As they all spoke with the exact same inflection and tonality, I found it hard to keep track of which was speaking. I shifted, and Atton, taking the hint, helped me to ease Bao-Dur down onto the snow while I kept talking to stall the fight. "That speech pattern was annoying enough when there was only one of you. How many are there, anyway?"

"Chiding Statement: Oh, Jedi, there are as many of us as are needed to capture or kill our targets," one of the HK-50 droids said.

"Egotistical Boast: And there are far more of us than any one Jedi. Destroy one of us, and more shall rise from the wreckage," boasted another.

"Unnecessary Threat: And our attack protocols are more than a match for you—and your allies."

I shrugged and pulled out my blaster. "Stop with the threats, already. I get it. You're right: they're unnecessary. Let's put those attack protocols to the test."

I fired at the same time as Atton. Kreia reached out with the Force and one droid went down in a shower of sparks. I ducked a blaster bolt and ran, zigzagging to make it harder for the HK-50 droids to get a clear shot, and firing all the way.

The HK-50 droids are excellent at working from the shadows, Aithne. Mass slaughter by sabotage and assassination is their specialty. But straightforward battle is not their forte. Though they certainly have nasty behavior protocols, they're built on subtler lines. Because they were mass-produced, budget cuts were made in their armor and defense. In two minutes I'd cut the other two droids down.

I examined the mechanisms and behavior core of one, but still could not find any clue as to their employer or manufacturer. "We really have to go," I said to Kreia. "I hadn't realized how quickly they would track me. If they're here, how long before the Sith and the big Exchange bosses are on us?"

"You speak the truth. We must hope the _Ebon Hawk_ has indeed been hidden here."

"They said this was the remnants of the Telosian polar irrigation system?" I asked. "Maybe there's a door someplace?"

"Way ahead of you," Atton called from several meters away. "Right here—there's a door into the bank."

"Help me with Bao-Dur—it's freezing out here."

Despite Kreia's abhorrence of anything physical, the old woman was turning blue beneath her hood by the time the three of us, carrying Bao-Dur, had made it to the door of the Telosian irrigation system. The door was unlocked. Kreia opened it for me and Atton.

The warmth was delicious, Aithne. Whatever doubts I'd had about Bao-Dur's lead vanished at once. The place was obviously inhabited. The door closed behind us, and Atton and I lay Bao-Dur back down to take a look around.

We staggered forward a few steps, and my ears were just starting to sting dreadfully as they warmed up, when the lights came on, revealing that we were surrounded. There were six women standing in a circle around us. All of them were clad in white hooded tunics and white pants, and bearing long, lethally sharp electrified spears. Their hair was silvery, and their eyes were icy blue. Echani.

Echani aren't mercs or Exchange thugs. True fighters, almost every one of them. So I paused. "Lay down your weapons and you shall not be harmed," one said.

"Who are you? What is this place?" I asked.

The one that had spoken before narrowed her eyes. "I will not warn you again. Drop your weapons, or we shall take them from you."

Kreia stepped closer to me. "Do as they say," she murmured. "I sense we will come to no harm."

Uneasy, I nevertheless followed the old woman's advice. I drew my blaster and swung off my vibroblade and laid them both on the ground with my pack. Kreia laid down her own vibroblade, and Atton, more slowly than Kreia, but following my lead, put down his blaster, too.

"We'll play along for now," I said, addressing the speaker. "Don't lose them." I stepped away from my weapons. One of the other women signaled the others, and two came to flank me.

"Come with us. The mistress wishes to speak with you, Exile."

I looked back at Kreia, suddenly even more uncomfortable. "Exile? But—"the four other Echani had taken positions around Kreia and Atton, though, hindering them from following me.

One of my guards lowered a spear a few centimeters. "We will not tell you again," she said. "Now come."

They led me away from my companions toward the strange 'mistress' who knew me as 'Exile'. Someone that knew exactly who I was, and who I had been.

* * *

_"I thought it had been leaked all over space you were a Jedi," Aithne objected._

_ "A Jedi, yes, and even that I'd served under you. But my title and precise history _wasn't_ common knowledge, and no one yet had referred to me as 'Exile,'" Darden explained. _

_ "So they knew you'd been kicked _out_ of the Order," Aithne said. "I see."_

* * *

The two Echani guards led me through wide, open rooms. The original purpose of the facility could clearly be seen in the exposed piping and metal walls, but the old planetary irrigation system was being put to a different use. I saw combat training mats, statues. The place looked like an imitation Jedi Academy. Rough, but serviceable. But there was no one here other than the Echani. At all. Our steps echoed through the halls, as if calling for others in the loneliness.

The two women led me through one last passageway, and a cavernous room opened up. This was what had been the well down into the groundwater reservoir. It extended down for miles. I thought I could see water still down in it, but it was so far down it might just have been darkness. A single bridge extended across the meters-wide opening beneath an almost impossibly high ceiling, and on the other side of the bridge was a large, black door. The Echani guards stood back at the door we'd come through, and on the other side, the door opened.

I understood I was to walk across and meet 'mistress' in the middle.

As the woman who had called me here and I came closer together and I identified her face, I felt very cold again, despite the warmness of the chamber. It was somewhat appropriate to meet Atris again in a polar region, I felt. Do you remember her? Have you heard of her? No? She was an Echani Jedi Master. She didn't fight in the Mandalorian Wars, and she was on the Council that exiled me. Echani don't age as perceptibly as humans, so though she had to be around fifty, her face was curiously unlined. I found myself reflecting that she'd be very beautiful if her face weren't so very, very hard. Her eyes were like chunks of ice as we met in the center of the bridge.

She spoke no greeting, but began at once. "I did not expect to see you again after the day of your sentencing. I thought you had taken the exile's path, wandering the galaxy. Yet you have returned—why?"

It immediately came to my mind both that the _Ebon Hawk_ was undoubtedly here and that Atris had stolen it for the sole purpose of arranging a meeting between us. "No," I said. "Your servants took me away from my companions. You tell me where they are first. Bao-Dur was hurt."

Atris' eyes bored into me. "Your concern is noted. Your friends have not been harmed. They have been detained for their safety. I find it…unusual…that you are traveling with others again. I had thought you had forsaken the company of others after the war? Or is that why you are here?"

I folded my arms, irritated. "What, that I started traveling with others again and thought I'd look you up? Atris, you know damn well why I'm here, and it wasn't because I wanted to see you."

"Yet here you are," Atris said. Her voice had already been chill, and now it was subzero. "Perhaps you do not know yourself as well as you think. Regardless, your arrival here begs an explanation. Have you come to face the judgment of the Council, as you did so many years ago? Are you finally willing to admit that we were right to cast you out?"

Her words amazed me, and I was getting angrier by the second. "Have you been waiting to hear it?" I managed, after a moment. "You won't get to. The Council was wrong to cast me out; they were wrong to condemn me for going to war. The Council wanted to assess the threat while people were dying by the millions."

Atris' pale cheeks flushed pink. "So you said, so long ago. I didn't believe it then and I don't believe it now. You sought adventure. You hungered for battle. You could not wait to follow Revan to war. The Jedi Order asked only for time to examine the Mandalorian threat. They urged caution, patience. You defied them. So when you returned you were brought before us. You were a Jedi no longer, and so you were exiled."

I wondered how Atris dared. "What is a Jedi Knight?" I demanded of her. "We were supposed to teach; we were supposed to protect. It's easy for you to sit down here and condemn me, easy for you to say I lusted for battle. You weren't there, Atris! You didn't see it, and you didn't live it. The war was hell, and I hated every minute of it. Every second! I went to protect the defenseless. And on that day when I returned to answer for it you wanted me imprisoned or worse."

Atris' anger had not dimmed in the decade that had passed since we'd last faced one another. "There was much about that day that is difficult to forget—"she said in a loud, ringing voice. "Your words, your defiance. And when you stabbed your lightsaber into the center stone. I have kept it, so I would never forget!"

She plunged her hand into her white robe and drew forth a lightsaber, activating it. It was my very own lightsaber, cyan blue. As I looked at it, Aithne, all of the pain and sorrow of the Mandalorian Wars came back, both what I saw done and what I did myself. All the injustice and anger I felt when I tried to do the right thing afterward, and the Jedi Council met my gesture of reconciliation only with rejection. Atris had been one of the ones that had wanted to take me on as a Padawan as a child, though in the end the Council had decided I would learn better from a Guardian than a historian. Still Atris had watched my career with interest, then when I returned she had pushed for imprisonment, or even worse. And _she_ held my lightsaber, Aithne!

"It wasn't your right!" I cried.

"I have always kept it," Atris said, smiling oddly. "As a reminder of what can happen when your passions dictate your actions. I have kept it, so I would never forget your arrogance or your insult to the Order."

When she said that, it was like a rusty gear clunked into place, like all of a sudden my personal hyperdrive started working again after years of dysfunctionality, and all my anger abated. You see, Aithne, I know why I fought in the Mandalorian Wars and gave the order at Malachor. I knew it then, too. But that was the first time I realized that I would do it again if it meant protecting others, fighting for what's right. I've destroyed worlds, condemned hundreds and thousands of my own soldiers to death. I will always carry that guilt with me. I can't ever be sure of sleeping soundly at night. But Aithne, I didn't carry a memento of my anger around for ten years. I never took revenge. And that evening on Telos, I wasn't the one standing on that bridge over the old reservoir with hatred and delusion in my mind and heart.

I answered Atris. "It isn't arrogance to defy what is wrong. I didn't insult the Order, only what the Order had become. And that day, I was the only one that retained enough respect for the Jedi to return. To be exiled, after that—"

Atris' face softened infinitesimally. "I am not unsympathetic to your feelings. It must have been difficult for you to leave the Order. But you gave the Council no other choice. You gave me no other choice."

I heard the emphasis on the personal, and realized that Atris had broken the rules of the Council herself, and attached to me in some way all those years ago. She had felt betrayed when I'd defied the Council, and she had been letting it torment her for years. I gestured at the still active lightsaber. "With that lightsaber, I defended the weak and upheld the right," I told her.

Her eyes flashed. "Your choice was to meet the aggression of the Mandalorians with more aggression!" she retorted. "That is not the Jedi way!"

"The Jedi were abandoning their sworn responsibilities," I replied. "I and the others that went to war saved the Republic. We kept worlds safe!" It was strange, Aithne. Atris' very accusations were ones that had run over and over in my head for years, but now that I was able to reply to them, I realized once again that I'd been _right_. With every word I grew more certain of myself.

"There was no guarantee that marching to war would have saved the Outer Rim," Atris argued. "In fact, quite the opposite."

"You're right there was no guarantee we would win when we left," I countered. "We almost didn't. Believe me, I know. But if we hadn't gone, the Mandalorians would rule the Republic. What would a government under them have looked like, Atris?" With their contempt for the weak and everlasting desire to test themselves against oblivion?"

"Perhaps the Mandalorians would have won the physical victory," Atris conceded grudgingly. Quickly she added, "But the real victory lay in th—"

I cut her off, "—In the triumph of pacifism? In the surrender to enslavement and or obliteration, and the tacit compliance in the massacre of worlds?"

"Do not twist my words!" Atris snapped. "A physical victory is not the only victory. Or the only loss."

"You can say that because the Republic still stands," I pointed out. "But what if it had fallen?"

Atris had taken a step back, and her face had not recovered from its angry flush. "You do not kno—"she started.

Sensing victory, I pressed again, "If the Mandalorians had won, Atris, would the Council have deemed it appropriate to fight then? Or would they have merely sat in their temples and meditated on the ramifications of a Mandalorian-run galaxy?"

Atris half-raised my old lightsaber. "How dare you!" she cried passionately. "The Mandalorian Wars should have been your grave and Malachor V is where you should have died!"

I stood there, silent for a moment. I felt it was important for Atris to hear her own hateful words echoing through the reservoir chamber. She did hear them, and she paled slightly. As the echo faded, I spoke. "I agree with you. I wish I had, every day. But I didn't think that _you_ would say so. You are, after all, a _proper_ Jedi. Atris, it's been ten years. I know why _I_ still see Malachor every night. I know why I wake up sobbing in the dark. I know my own solitude, and I know my own anger at the injustice done to me when the Council cast me out—"

Atris' eyes flashed in triumph, she opened her mouth, but I anticipated her and held up a hand.

"You can't dare to tell me that anger is of the Dark Side while you stand there with my lightsaber in your hand throwing ten year old accusations at me!" I snapped. "I'm an Exile. You and the Council made sure of that. I don't have to follow the Jedi way anymore—if there even is a Jedi way to follow, now. But Atris, I'm not the only one standing here that hasn't come to terms with what happened in the Mandalorian Wars. Tell me, how long have you hidden here hating me for what I did, fearing me, and fearing your own confusion?"

Atris took another step away from me, and shut off the lightsaber. She thrust it back in her robe. "You see shadows where there are none, and hate where there is none. You are blind, as always."

I stepped toward her. "Somehow, I don't think so."

* * *

_ Aithne was trembling all over with barely suppressed energy and emotion. "Do you really believe all that?" she asked, unable to hold back anymore. "That we were right?"_

_ "Don't you?"_

_ "Sometimes I don't know," Aithne admitted. "I don't remember how it was before. The Mandalorian Wars—everything that happened—it's all just history to me. I've seen the holos. I've heard the stories. The Mandalorians had to be stopped. But the _way_ we did it _changed_ the ones that fought. Sometimes I'm not sure if winning was worth the cost."_

_ Darden smiled crookedly. "Me either. But I do believe we couldn't have in good conscience made choices other than the ones we made. We took the path we needed to, the necessary path, in the Mandalorian Wars. Were we right? No. And yes." _

_ "You more right than others, though. More right than me. How'd you stay in the Light?"_

_ "Is it a good thing I did?" Darden asked. "I made the pragmatic choices, the cold choices, same as you did, but I couldn't ever detach from them. Others could. Others could recalibrate their morality to justify the things we did, and fell to the Dark Side. Maybe you went crazy, but you stayed stable. I didn't. I went crazy, and I broke. You fell to the Dark Side; I fell into nothingness. Which is worse?" _

_ Aithne regarded the small, dark, serious woman before her, and was silent._

* * *

Atris backed down. "Enough! I tire of—fighting with you. You lust for war and you always will. And you have succeeded in distracting me from my original questions. If you have not seen the truth, have not repented, why have you come here?"

I'd won the argument, but Atris had borne her anger too long to change her mind. I sighed. "I didn't want to come here," I answered. "Unfortunately, somebody stole my ship. If you give it back, I can leave."

Atris suddenly took on a more calculating expression. "Your ship? Ah, the _Ebon Hawk_? It is not your ship. Unless you are admitting to the destruction of the Peragus mining facility."

"Are you admitting to stealing the _Ebon Hawk_?" I retorted.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ is here," Atris said. "Its records and navicomputer are being dissected to determine what caused the destruction of the Peragus facility."

I snorted. "Good luck with the navicomputer. You'll need it." Neither the Peragus techs nor Atton and I had been able to break in to your voice-locked navicomputer, Aithne, despite our best efforts. It was one of a couple things that puzzled me about the ship, the other being the broken down HK droid in the storage compartment—that was before I knew about HK-47 or that he'd been damaged when those pirates stole the _Ebon Hawk_. I mentioned neither voice-lock nor droid to Atris, however.

"We are having some trouble with the navicomputer," Atris admitted. "But I think with your cooperation—willing or otherwise—that will cease to be an obstacle. If it is your ship, perhaps I should be questioning you as to what happened—and why you destroyed the facility and murdered all the miners there."

The speech was illogical, desperate to find me in the light in which Atris viewed me, and it demonstrated exactly how messed up Atris was. "I cannot answer that question because it presupposes things that never happened," I said, pointing out the fallacy. "All the miners were dead when the facility was destroyed, dead when I woke up in the med bay."

Atris' face was a mask of cold disbelief. "A facility of over one hundred and fifty personnel, all dead before you awakened? A childish story to mask your crime. And with the facility destroyed, you think there is no way to confirm your story. But I will pry the truth from you, I promise you that."

"Actually, the truth of my story has already been confirmed, twice separately by both the TSF and the Republic," I told her. "Of course, you wouldn't know, hiding illegally down here. But if you asked them, I'm sure they could give you the evidence you asked for. Except you don't want it. Not really. You just want a way to convict me."

"You convict yourself with every word you speak," Atris snapped. "You insist that I hold anger toward you: that I am eager to condemn, but all I seek is that the truth of your crimes be made known and just punishment be dealt."

"You cannot find a truth that does not exist," But it was no good. "The _Ebon Hawk_ isn't yours, Atris," I said, giving up. "Return it."

"Again you insist that it is your ship," Atris said. "But it has had many owners, a fact of which I am sure you are aware. You have no claim over it—even if you did, the destruction you have already caused demands that you be tried and punished for what you have done."

"The destruction of Peragus was an accident. And it wasn't even _my_ accident!"

"Ah," Atris said, folding her arms. "An accident. Something beyond your control. You have not changed. Acting instead of thinking. Putting yourself before the galaxy, before the Jedi. Do you know what you have done?"

"I caused nothing," I repeated. "I did nothing except be present. Telos is in jeopardy. The entire Republic reconstructive initiative is in jeopardy. I _know_. If I had a _ship_, I could go look for an alternative source of fuel for Citadel Station, among other things."

Atris wasn't listening. "Without fuel, Telos cannot maintain its orbit," she lectured. "It will crash into the planet, and its destruction will echo across twenty other worlds. Telos was a test, to see if the Republic could mount a restoration effort on the Outer Rim. When it fails, they will not finance another. The other Rim Worlds devastated by the Sith will remain graveyard worlds, devoid of life. And that is the magnitude of your crime."

I leaned back on my right leg and examined my nails, almost bored now. "Wow, it's almost as bad as the Jedi letting the Outer Rim die during the Mandalorian Wars."

"So you still hold to your flawed convictions. If you think to anger me, you are wrong. How is it that you are not content to confine your ruin to yourself—you must spread it to others, wherever you go? Ruin yourself with your actions if you will, but when your actions bring harm to others then you must answer for it."

"No, you are not angered," I murmured. "You have been angry for so long that you aren't listening to me. Atris," I said, more loudly. "_I did not destroy Peragus_. The Sith did."

Atris stopped short another retort. "The Sith? What do you mean?"

I was relieved something had finally gotten through to the woman. "The Sith came for me on Peragus. They tried to kill me. I escaped on the _Ebon Hawk_. All the miners were already dead. The Sith pursued, and firing after me, hit and ignited the Peragus asteroid field. It was an accident. Not mine."

Atris concentrated for a moment, and I felt her assessing my words with the Force. "You speak truly," she said at last, surprised. "You have encountered the Sith. I can feel the scars on you. And you encountered them on Peragus? But what would they want there? They can't have been looking for _you_."

I snorted. "Tell them that. They apparently didn't get the memo that I 'walk the exile's path.' They think I'm the last of the Jedi."

Atris' eyes narrowed. "If you were the best target they could find, the teachings of the Dark Side blind the Sith indeed. I am the last Jedi, not you. You betrayed our teachings, our beliefs…the very core of the Jedi Order. If these Sith attacked you, they will soon realize their mistake. And if you escaped…they most likely let you go, to see if you would lead them here."

"They might have blown themselves up trying to kill me, actually," I mused. "Well—they had a Sith Lord with them. He probably got away. Don't underestimate them, though, Atris. They fight differently than the Sith from the Jedi Civil War, I'm told, and that Sith Lord I met might not be the only one."

Atris sniffed. "Whatever force they bring to bear, it will matter not—if they face a true Jedi, they shall fall."

I almost groaned. It was painfully obvious Atris hadn't fought in the Mandalorian Wars, or much in the Jedi Civil Wars. I paced in a tight little circle—the only breadth the narrow bridge would let me pace in. Unknown numbers of Sith and Atris was the only Jedi in all the galaxy? "Look, are you sure there aren't any survivors from the Civil War?" I asked. "Any Jedi other than you?"

"I said I was the last of the Jedi, Exile, and I did not speak falsely," Atris replied. "There are others who were once Jedi, but no longer. They will not take action against this threat."

Once-Jedi were better than no-Jedi. After all, Aithne, I was an ex-Jedi and I wanted to do something. "We can work with that," I said. "If you have any idea, any whispers of where these once-Jedi are, or were, I can find them. Give me my ship down, and I can track them down. Change their minds."

Atris was surprised. "You…you offer your aid? After turning your back on me…on the Council?" She paused, searched my face. "The Jedi way is not something you embrace out of fear. The commitment is stronger than that, something you never seemed to understand."

I took a deep breath. "I am not getting into this with you again, Atris. This isn't about me being afraid. This is about a threat that needs to be dealt with, and this is me, offering to help you."

Atris thought about this, then she nodded. "If you help me, it cannot be done from here," she agreed. "There are others in the galaxy who may help us against a Sith threat. If you can find them, gain their trust, perhaps our defenses shall be stronger for it. Take your ship, seek them out. If you find them, encourage them to gather on Dantooine. From there, we can call a council and see what may be done."

I bowed. It wasn't much to go on, but it was more than I'd had before. "If there is anyone who can aid us, I will find them," I promised.

"Then I shall send you on your way," Atris said frostily. She clapped her hands, and the two Echani guards at the entrance to the reservoir came forward with a third woman—the one that had hailed me and my companions upon our entrance into the irrigation system. "It is now time for you to depart," Atris told me.

"We shall remove her, mistress," said the third woman. To me she added, "Come with us."

You know how Echani siblings resemble one another to the point where they are indistinguishable? Well most of the guards looked exactly alike, from their noses to the spacing of their eyes to the way they carried themselves. They were obviously sisters. But this one—the speaker—she looked different. It was subtle. Her silvery hair was still cropped short. Her eyes were still icy blue, and she wore the same white uniform and carried the same make of spear as the others. But her lips were just a little bit fuller. Her nose was just a little bit longer, and her eyes just a little wider set. She was a little shorter, a little fuller-figured than the others. And while the others looked at me with contempt, her expression was more…curious.

I started back with the Echani handmaidens toward the main irrigation facility, but the different handmaiden hung back on the bridge with Atris.

"So where can I find my companions?" I asked one of the guards.

The woman didn't even look at me as she replied. "You will find them in the main irrigation channel room in the northern part of the plateau interior. The particle emitters that once governed the flow of water to Telos can double as force cages."

"You locked them up?" I asked, incredulous. "They didn't do anything!"

"They were caged for their safety until we could determine your intent, exile," the guard replied coolly. "Atris cautioned us against your tactics, fearing that your allies would create a distraction. Your companions gave us little trouble, however. The male could have presented some challenge if he had resisted, but he chose not to."

The offhand statement gave me pause. Like I said, the Echani aren't mercs. They're fighters, warriors, even. "_Atton_ could have presented a challenge," I repeated.

"He has had some Echani training. He masks it well, but when you were in danger his mask dropped into a stance we know well."

I swallowed, slowed. The Echani guards were no longer guarding me, so the one I wasn't talking with kept walking, turning left in an atrium-like room and vanishing through another door. I knew Atton could fight hand to hand. I'd heard him disable opponents like that behind my back. I'd seen him take out the assassin in the TSF office, and in the Exchange suites, I had felt him fall into a martial stance when I grabbed his arm before he'd recovered from the firefight adrenaline. But I hadn't ever expected it was anything as rigorous or dangerous as the Echani style. "Where…where could he have gotten that training?" I asked, more to myself than to the guard.

She answered anyway, slowing and turning to face me. "I do not know. The Echani forms are known to be taught to military special forces throughout the galaxy. If the source is a mystery to you, perhaps you should ask him. It would be wise to know those you travel with."

I asked her some other questions—about the location of the _Ebon Hawk_, about what they did here, about her sister that had spoken to me before, and she answered them with terse politeness, but her words about Atton stuck in my head. She eventually said she had to leave to help her sisters supply and fuel the _Ebon Hawk_ for our voyage, and I bowed, still thinking. Then I set out to rejoin the others.

I found them to the north just like the guard—or handmaiden, as she called herself—had indicated. Bao-Dur was standing now. His head had been bandaged and his arm had been powered back up, which had been a bad move on the handmaidens' part. Of course, they couldn't have known that I had seen it take out far stronger shields in the Telosian base in RZ-0031, and that Bao-Dur would be able to get out the second he decided to do so. Bao-Dur was standing in that force cage solely because he hadn't decided he needed to cause trouble yet.

"General," he greeted me as I came into the room.

Kreia stood from where she had been sitting on the floor of her force cage. "Did you find what you came for?" she asked me.

I looked at her, and felt no uncertainty from her whatsoever as to what I had encountered in the place. "That depends," I answered. "What do you think I was supposed to find here, Kreia?"

"There was something from your past here," she said. "Something unresolved. I feel we did not come to this place by chance—you were led here. This woman who resides here—she did something to you once. Something that hangs upon you still?"

I glanced at Bao-Dur, who was watching with some interest. But he knew me, and I didn't really mind discussing my past in front of him. "Upon her more than me, I think," I told Kreia, "For all that I was the one that ended up exiled. Still, she's not exactly charming."

Bao-Dur's gaze dropped, and he looked troubled.

"Whatever her charm, or lack thereof, you must deal with it," Kreia said. "Unresolved events from our past can create wounds in the present, and the future. And more importantly, they can distract you. Weaken you. It could prove fatal against the enemies we face."

I shrugged. "Atris was one of the Council that exiled me. She's a Jedi."

Kreia sniffed. "There is a Jedi here, perhaps. In that you are correct. Yet there are no students, and this woman, this Atris, surrounds herself with those who cannot feel the Force. Curious."

"The Handmaidens," I said thoughtfully. "I talked to one of them to find out where you were. They seem sure that Atris is going to heal the galaxy and rebuild the Order. Frankly, I think she ought to heal herself first. I knew the Handmaidens weren't students, but you're telling me they can't even feel the Force?"

"Yes, her servants are not Jedi. Their minds are walls, trained to resist tricks of the mind. Their discipline blinds them to the Force as well, even if they were Force Sensitive."

That she had this information made me nervous, and I looked hard at the old woman. "Kreia—how would you know about the minds of the women here? Have you been in their heads?"

The old woman's withered mouth quirked, and she spread her arms. "Invade the mind of another? It is not something done carelessly…or when there is nothing to be gained."

I folded my arms, unconvinced. "Let's talk about it on the way out of here," I said, finally.

"Very well, let us depart."

There was a groan, then, and I turned to see Atton on the other side of the room, on the floor of his cage. I gasped. "Bao-Dur was knocked out in the crash—nice to see you up again, by the way—but what the hell happened to Atton, Kreia? He's out cold!"

"He wasn't knocked out in the crash?" Bao-Dur asked.

I looked at him, wondering what had given him that idea. I pressed the lever to release the force cages and went over to kneel beside Atton. "No, and the handmaiden I talked to said he didn't give them any trouble, so…?"

I picked up his wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was there, strong enough.

"He is only sleeping," Kreia said smoothly. "It seems the journey here has fatigued him."

Something about her tone made me suspicious, and as I watched her, I saw Bao-Dur's eyes were narrowed, too. I just shook Atton, though. "Hey—get up, Atton. It's time to go."

He groaned again and started to sit up. Assured he'd be fine, I rose and went over to Bao-Dur. I clapped him on the back and looked at his bandage. It looked like the handmaidens had treated his injury well.

"I'm sorry I lost consciousness in the crash, General," he said.

"Don't worry about it. Nothing to be sorry for. We all have bad days now and then, right? Are you going to be okay?"

He smiled. "I'm fine, General," he assured me. "Even power has been restored to my arm. This place—we're beneath the polar mesa?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Atris—that Jedi Master we were talking about? She decided she'd set up a secret Jedi Academy down here in the old irrigation system."

"This must be where I had detected the energy readings before—and the drain to the restoration shields," Bao-Dur said. He sounded a little annoyed that Atris had been stealing from the Restoration Project. "This room—this place—the system's supposed to be planet wide, like the one on Coruscant. I had been told by the Republic that it was not in use."

"I don't think the Republic knows," I told him. "But on the bright side, the Sith don't know, either. Look, are you ready to go? They don't like me here."

"I am," Bao-Dur said. "General—I'd like to help you out, if I can. Go with you. If your ship is here, I can prepare it to leave."

I was a little surprised, but not displeased by the prospect. "I'd like that," I said after a moment. "Sure. I'm going to need all the help I can get in the next few months, I think. Yeah. The ship's here. Just north and east, or so I've been told. There ought to be a lot of Echani women supplying and fueling it. I'll see you there."

Bao-Dur saluted, not entirely in earnest, which made me feel a little better. "Very well, General," he said. I returned the salute, even more ironically, and waved, and Bao-Dur headed out the eastern door to the chamber.

Atton had just regained his feet, and I went back over to him, a little worried. He seemed to be uninjured, but he was acting like he'd been drugged, though the handmaiden I'd talked to had said all my companions were fine. Finally, though, his eyes focused on me. He smiled crookedly. "Ergh—hey, you're back with us. We were just on our way to rescue you from those ghost women, when…uh, we got locked up."

Before I'd talked to that handmaiden, I might have laughed at the implication that Atton and Kreia alone and unarmed could rescue me from six Echani warrior women, Kreia's strength in the force and Atton's handiness with a blaster notwithstanding. But the handmaiden had affirmed what I had once thought I was only imagining, and now the statement rang more true than a lot of things Atton Rand said.

"Yeah, jails seem to like you for some reason," I managed, forcing a smiled. "But hey, thanks. If I ever need you to rescue me with that Echani training I'll give you a call."

"Echani training?" Kreia repeated.

It took Atton almost two seconds to get it, which proved something really was wrong. But then he asked, "What?" His voice was very, very soft.

I swung the pack which I had been directed to by the handmaiden down off my shoulder and pretended to fiddle with its contents. "You dropped into an Echani combat stance when Atris' handmaidens met us at the entrance, took our weapons, and started to take me away. They saw you. I didn't, but I've seen it once before—in the Exchange suites on Citadel. Thought I'd imagined it. Guess I didn't. These women have spent their entire lives learning those forms." I paused, shrugged, as if it didn't matter. "It's weird, though. Only non-Echani I can think of that learn that stuff are special forces. Covert ops. Where'd you pick it up?"

As I'd spoken, Atton's eyes had started tracking again. With every word he'd listened more carefully. Now he smiled, then laughed. "The stance at the entrance? Don't tell anyone, but you wouldn't believe how many fights you can prevent just by pretending to know that stuff. I mean, it doesn't compare to wearing a lightsaber, but then again, look at what happened to yours." He laughed again, harshly. "C'mon, sweetheart. Special ops. Me?"

Atton didn't exhibit any of the usual liar's tells. He held my gaze without looking away. He wasn't shifting or twitching anywhere, and his entire body was relaxed. It was only the fear I could sense through the Force and the edge in his voice that was usually directed at the situation or whoever was trying to kill us, and not at me, that gave him away. I knew I had hit on something big. "You're a very good liar," I told him. "Really, well done. Kind of sad you've had all the practice to develop the skill. But you don't have to lie to me, you know that?"

Atton went rigid, his mouth razor thin, like it had been the first time I'd almost asked about him. His eyes darkened and he suddenly looked much taller and much more forbidding. "So what if I'm lying?" he demanded. "So what if I am, 'General'? I don't ask any dumb questions about your past, despite the fact that it keeps throwing us into life-threatening situations." He let that echo in the air for a moment, then added. "You want to know why? I figure if you ever want to tell me something, you will. So give me the same respect, all right?"

Before the handmaiden spoke, I'd done my best to ignore the less-than-savory aspects of Atton Rand's character. His sketchiness, his dislike for the Jedi, the times he sometimes seemed to almost enjoy violence, the times he looked at me like he was thinking how best to take me down. I'd figured if he had a knack for landing in trouble, he also had a knack for getting out again. He was handy with a blaster, had a decent sense of humor even if it was sometimes inappropriate, and I'd decided to trust him. But with the revelation of Atton's Echani training, his extreme reluctance to talk about it, it was beginning to look like Atton Rand might be genuinely dangerous, or that he had been. I realized how little I actually knew the man.

But his objections were solid enough. I threw my pack back over my shoulder. "You got it," I told him. "I don't want any dirty little secrets, though it seems you've figured out mine."

"Some secret," Atton snorted.

"Yes, well, I blew up a planet and thousands of people—Mandalorians and my own forces. No matter how much I'd like to forget it, that sort of thing tends to follow a person around. I don't like to talk about it, so it's not fair for me to ask you to talk about something you might not like to remember, either."

I went over to the storage cylinder in the corner of the room and drew out my companions' equipment. I handed Kreia her vibroblade and Atton his blaster and pack. "I know you're helping me, not hurting me," I said to Atton quietly. "So I won't push it. It would've been hard to put you in deep cover in a force cage in a dead facility destroyed by an HK-50 droid. And if you were an assassin, too, you would've killed me already. You've had plenty of opportunity."

Atton had been fuming, but the suggestion that he had had plenty of opportunity to kill me seemed to relax him. "Yeah, I have," he said firmly. Much of the anger had left his voice.

"So whatever you were-?" I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I just figured if you _do_ have any special combat training it could be a real asset."

Atton holstered his blaster, and smiled at last. "Well, hey, thanks," he said awkwardly. "But you've got the wrong guy. I can fly your ship. I'm good at shooting people, cracking wise, and pretending I know how to fight with my hands."

I didn't believe him. The wariness in his gaze told me that he knew I didn't believe him. But the conversation we'd just had indicated it wouldn't be a good idea to call him on it again. Given what I'd learned, I wasn't sure how far I should push the man. "Fine," I said. "You good to move on? You were a little out of it, before. I was worried."

Atton was surprised. His ears actually turned pink, and I shifted. It was hard to believe that I had such an effect on the man, disturbing. "Nah—don't worry about me," Atton said. "I'm fine. Uh…how're you? The woman here—Atris—Kreia said she was a Jedi? How'd things go with her? You all done?"

I started toward the eastern door. "The handmaidens are supplying the _Hawk_ for us," I repeated. "At least, some of them are. I think some of them are guarding the mistress' chambers to make sure I don't upset her anymore."

"Wait—why're they supplying the _Ebon Hawk_?" Atton asked as he and Kreia fell in behind me.

"Because we—that is, I—have agreed to go on a galactic ex-Jedi hunt for Atris, in hopes of maybe figuring out some way of dealing with the Sith that are after both of us," I answered.

"And this is our path, then?" Kreia asked.

"Yours, mine, and apparently Bao-Dur's," I confirmed. I stopped then, and looked back at Atton. "Atton—we do have the ship back, though, and you only ever promised to help me that far. If you want, you can fly us to some port and we can find another pilot. Not Citadel, though. The Republic's probably still hanging around and I can't afford to be detained."

Suddenly a door slammed in my head. Emotions swirled around me. I felt command, anger, fear, in a maelstrom of feeling that swamped my still-developing connection to the Force. Without my link to Kreia open, I couldn't sense who was feeling what. I glanced from one to the other of them.

Atton's face had gone tight. "Nah," he said, laughing nervously. "Heh. I'm with you until things start getting better for you. We need to stick together, you know? And who knows? I might be able to help you out of a tight spot at some point."

It was the second time Atton had volunteered to stay against my expectations. The last time, however, on Citadel Station, he had sounded much more like he wanted to stay, for all that he'd given an estimated time of departure. Now he was promising to stay with me for an indefinite period, as long as I needed him, and his words were far more enthusiastic, but his tone was much less so. The fear—yes—it was coming off of him, like the winds of a storm. I did not, however, sense that it was directed toward our legions of pursuers.

Instinctively I looked at Kreia for an answer, some insight into the emotions I could feel coming from Atton, but my 'teacher' was looking away, and her mind was shut tighter than a crime lord's safe. A horrible suspicion curled in my stomach like a parasite, but I could not say what of, so I let it pass. "Are you _sure_?" I asked Atton. "You want to stay with me?"

"Yeah," Atton said. Then again, more positively, "Yeah. I'm with you." The tension around him lessened then, and for a moment I couldn't understand why. Then I realized that the wording of my second question was more personal, less conflict-directed and more implicit of the partnership that would result from a galactic ex-Jedi hunt together. I turned, cursing myself for an awkward idiot.

"Come on, then."

As we walked out though, I thought what the hell. I didn't know Atton's background or what I thought of him. His obvious attraction to me made me uncomfortable, to say the least. But he wasn't Kreia, semi-Sith and cryptic. He wasn't Bao-Dur, whom I couldn't even look at without remembering the war, for all I was sure I actually liked the Iridonian. Atton wasn't Jedi or Sith, and he wasn't connected at all with my past. So though I didn't know if I liked him, suspected he might have his own nasty past, I did like having him around, even if it was selfish, unfair, and even foolish of me. Strangely, though, at the same time that I thought that he could be an idiot and accompany me if he liked, Kreia's words of using my allies' dependence upon me echoed in my skull, and I felt the cold weight of responsibility for Atton Rand's fate settle in my stomach, and an apprehension of guilt for what he might run into on my behalf.

"Thanks," I muttered belatedly, wishing fervently for Atton to leave. His instincts were right on that it was stupid and dangerous to help me, and I couldn't give him what he wanted. It wasn't like the war, with my soldiers that served another cause. Atton Rand was staying with me for me, and if he got hurt…when he got hurt, it'd be my fault.

"Hey, don't mention it," Atton said, definitively not picking up on my depressed inner monologue. "So. If the ghost women are loading up the _Ebon Hawk_ we can't leave yet, right? So what are we doing?"

He made a good point. We'd left the main irrigation chamber a while back and made our way into the atrium area that led off to the bridge, to the exit to the mesa, and to another hall I hadn't been down yet. Atris had this chamber fixed up like an Academy reception room, with some sort of white marble statue in the center. "Just walking. Probably be the last time we see something that isn't on board the ship for a while. I don't know where we're going…hey—"I stopped.

Behind the statue, an Echani woman was standing off to the side. She had the distinct attitude that she'd been caught hanging around when she wasn't supposed to be. I remembered from the wars when I had caught guards slacking. Further back I had often had the attitude myself when a Master had caught me daydreaming when I was supposed to be studying.

This handmaiden was the different one, the one the guard I had spoken to before had called 'the last of the handmaidens.' She had recovered from her embarrassment now, and she was staring at me with unabashed interest.

I walked over to her. "You are the Exile," she said. "The one Atris warned us about."

Her tone was curious, even cautiously friendly. Her sisters had ignored me, and when I'd talked to that other one, she had spoken with hauteur and contempt. "Yeah, and you're the handmaiden that keeps addressing me when all your sisters don't," I said. "The last of the handmaidens, I think they called you?"

The younger woman's face fell. "I am the last of the handmaidens, this is correct," she confirmed. "I train so that one day that will no longer be true."

"The others said you were easily distracted from that training?"

She really did look like a girl, compared to the others. She stepped back. "It dishonors me that they would say such a thing to an outsider. But I cannot deny the truth in what they say. My thoughts are not always focused on the training. Perhaps once having known the ways of the Jedi, you may understand what occupies my thoughts."

Behind me, I felt Kreia's interest sharpen. "What do you mean?" I asked the girl. "What do you think about, when you're distracted from your training?"

The last of the handmaidens looked up at the statue in the center of the room. "There is much knowledge here," she replied slowly, "And only one of the Jedi remains. There is so much about their ways of battle, their forms, their stances, that may be lost forever if the last of the Jedi is taken from the galaxy."

"I see."

She obviously didn't often get to speak her thoughts. The girl continued, "To the Echani, battle is the purest form of communication," she explained. "Stance, form, discipline are a means of expression and communication. They speak one's heart and one's devotion to their cause."

The girl might very well be right, I thought, but she spoke of what was communicated like it was a thing of beauty. "Devotion to the cause demonstrated through battle," I repeated flatly.

"Yes," the girl said, looking a little confused at my tone. "The methods you use to meet your opponent speak truer than any words can express. When you risk pain or death, there is no truer sacrifice or strength."

I was forcefully impressed both by the girl's insight and by her naïveté. "And what of slaughter?" I demanded. "What of that? Is that, too, a form of communication?"

The girl's spine straightened, and she met my gaze firmly. "It was to the Jedi traitor Malak. It was to the Jedi traitor Revan. When Taris was destroyed, it showed Malak's heart through its execution and intent. It was brutal, without finesse, but it showed his commitment to defeat the Jedi. Yet with Revan, there was the same commitment, but it was a subtle thing, like weaving threads in a tapestry, or strokes upon a canvas. She spoke through battle and tactics in a way that one could never do in words. She showed her heart at Malachor V, and finally at the end of the Jedi Civil War. I believe she was speaking to Malak in that final battle, though few knew it."

* * *

_Aithne Morrigan's face had gone hard, like the statue in a Jedi Academy itself, and just as cold. "Is this really necessary?" she asked._

_ "Relating how I met this girl and the types of things she was thinking about? Yes," Darden answered. "The simple truth is that for almost twenty years, your actions have had an enormous impact not only on the galaxy, but on several individuals in it."_

_ "That was a lifetime ago."_

_ "Then why are you upset by it?" Darden asked. _

_ Aithne shuddered. Her golden eyes flashed angrily. Her fists clenched and unclenched. "I can't get away from it," she muttered. "All the way out here, they're still talking."_

_ "Yes, and they always will. What matters is how you deal. So deal," Darden challenged._

* * *

As the handmaiden spoke, Kreia's distaste got stronger and stronger in the back of my mind. But I just felt sad. "She killed him," I said bitterly. "No one was there to see it. So who knows what she said. We certainly can't ask her."

"Who'd want to?" Atton murmured. Aithne—I don't. Okay? Whatever went down on the Star Forge between you and Malak is your business. This is just how the conversation went. It's more important for what it says about the girl than what it says about the Jedi Civil War.

The handmaiden looked grave. "What stronger display than death for conveying one's sense of being betrayed by one's own student?" she asked. "Revan's anger must have been great indeed."

Kreia could keep silent no more. "To claim to know anything of Revan's choices or what lay in her heart when Malak fell is conceit, servant of Atris," she snapped. "And whether Revan had any choice in the matter at all is something else you should consider. The Force is a powerful thing to wield…or deny."

I glanced at the old woman. In her anger, she was revealing more of herself than perhaps she intended. The handmaiden answered her, "But to say that seems an untruth, based on what I know of the Jedi," she argued. "The Force can drive others, but there is still choice, is there not?"

"Ah, but at what point does the power the Force exerts submerge any attempt at choice, or free will?" Kreia rebutted. "You have taken a complicated question, servant of Atris, and you have trivialized it with your answer and lack of experience."

She had a point about the handmaiden's gross oversimplification, of course, but I disagreed with the basis upon which Kreia took exception to the girl's theories, and I couldn't help but feel vindicated when Atris' handmaiden replied, "If there is no choice in the Force, then our teachings and actions are for nothing, and I refuse to believe that is true."

Kreia looked about ready to make an acid retort, but I interrupted. "We could debate free will and destiny all day, but your mistress has given me a mission, has she not? Even now your sisters are supplying my ship. I don't think they like me very much. If Atris warned all of you about me, it might explain why. What did she say?"

The girl answered readily enough. "She said you betrayed the Jedi by going to war when it was forbidden to you. You turned on your masters, your teachings, and on yourself."

"Does she?" I asked, surprised. I had thought that Atris would have been too proud to tell her servants about her grudge, but it appeared that wasn't the case. Atris was angrier than I had thought, even.

"That is not all she says," the girl replied. "She says you know nothing of loyalty to any cause except your own animal instincts, and she told us why you fell to the Dark Side."

The injustice and slander angered me. "I didn't give into the Dark Side!" I cried. "I _never_ did!"

The handmaiden watched my face carefully. "_Atris says_ that you fell to the Dark Side in the Mandalorian Wars when you gave into your lust for battle," she replied simply. "Once you tasted war, you could not give it up."

Her emphasis caught me off guard. I paused. The tone of the handmaiden's recital was like she was searching for the truth, like she was not sure herself of the verity of Atris' statements. I changed tack, wondering if I could spare the child Atris' delusions. "Except I did give it up, didn't I?" I asked her. "Why didn't I fight against the Jedi in the Civil War, if I had fallen to the Dark Side and loved war so much?"

Kreia made an approving noise.

But the handmaiden had an answer for this, too. "Atris says when the Dark Lord Revan returned to the Republic, you did not march with them because you had fallen so far you could no longer feel the Force."

Kreia seemed to solidify behind me. As I breathed in, it felt like the breath would freeze my lungs. Because, of course, if Atris and the Council stripped me of the Force, why would Atris tell her servants I had fallen beyond feeling the Force? "I see," I said, very slowly. "And does Atris—has she told you anything else?"

"I believe that is the extent of her expressed feelings towards you," the girl replied quietly. "There are variations at times, but all rise from the same foundation."

I caught the implication. She was subtle, careful, but she was expressing doubt. "You see it, too, then," I said. "Or suspect that what Atris says is not what she feels."

The handmaiden shifted. I sensed her deep love for Atris, and the discomfort that her small doubts caused her. "It is difficult for others to truly speak their heart or listen to it," she said. "The words often prove difficult, or they do not come at all."

I decided I liked this last of the handmaidens. I liked her thoughtfulness, her seriousness, her ability to both doubt Atris' feelings and have compassion on them. And there was something else about her, too. Some radiance that seemed to hang in the air about her. If Kreia hadn't already said that the handmaidens couldn't feel the Force—but I remembered that she had also said that it was their discipline that desensitized them. Softly, I asked the girl, "What do _you_ feel Atris' heart says of me, last of the handmaidens?"

The girl met my eyes. "Without having seen you and Atris fight, I cannot say," she answered. "Battle is a pure form of expression. It is heart and discipline, reduced to movement and motion."

"So if I fought Atris that might make the truth come out?"

"Perhaps," the handmaiden said cautiously. "It may prove truer than conversing with words. In battle, the words are swept away, giving way to actions—mercy, sacrifice, anger, fear. These are pure moments of expression.

I admired her philosophy, incomplete as it was. "You're very different from the others here," I told her. "Not just your appearance—your ideas, too."

She had been at her ease, but now the girl stiffened. "I honor the face of my mother," she explained. "It is not something spoken of in the company of others."

All at once I understood not only the Force Sensitivity I suspected the girl possessed, but also her sisters' coldness toward her. Possibly, even probably, the girl's ranking had nothing to do with her preoccupation with Jedi combat techniques. "I didn't mean to offend you," I said. "It's a good thing."

She relaxed again. "There is no need to apologize," she said. "You merely remarked on something you saw—there is no wrong in that."

The girl was certainly forward enough about her own observations, I thought. "Is it a sensitive subject?" I asked her.

"It is not a sensitive subject, but a subject that requires trust. There is no such trust between you and I, and such trust takes time."

I sighed, realizing that as we'd been talking the others had probably finished loading the _Ebon Hawk_. "Unfortunately time I don't have," I said, extending my hand. The girl took it, and we shook. "I really am sorry," I told her. "I'd like to get to know you better, I think. Thank you for talking with me."

The simple words elicited such a look of longing on the girl's sensitive face that I caught my breath. "Before you go, Exile…question for you, if I may ask," she said. "You have touched the Force. What does it feel like?"

I'd yet to drop her hand, and now I pressed it. As the sister I had talked with had explained, the handmaidens were forbidden by their vow to Atris to learn the ways of the Force, and with sisters that already disliked her, the question didn't bode well for this the youngest. "Are you sure you want to know?" I asked her quietly. "It's a difficult thing to describe, and I'm not sure it'll make things easier for you."

The girl clung to me, gripping my hand so tightly it began to go numb as the circulation cut off. "Please," she begged. "Tell me!"

I eased out of the girl's grip, and nodded reluctantly. "Close your eyes," I told her. "Imagine awakening, and hearing the heartbeat of the galaxy for the first time. Sensing the life, the energy all around you; the pulse of it all. The currents and patterns in everything, and if you follow them, out, out, they take you along, and you are part of them."

"The Force is like a cloud," Kreia said unexpectedly. "A mist that drifts from living creature to creature, set in motion by currents and eddies. It is the eye of the storm, the passions of all living things turned into energy, into a chorus. It is the rising swell at the end of life, the promise of new territories and new blood, the call of new mysteries in the dark."

As Kreia and I spoke, the girl's lips curved into a small smile. She opened her eyes. "I see. Thank you both. I appreciate you sharing your knowledge with me."

I felt guilty about it, however, sure it would get this child in trouble somehow. As I hitched my pack up on my shoulders and turned to go, I hesitated, and added, "Look—if you ever need anything—find me, okay? I'd love to answer any questions you might have about me or what happened, or maybe—maybe just get to know you. Your way. We could spar, or something. Get to know you, and let you get to know me."

The last of the handmaidens bowed, Echani-style, with her hands crossed over her breast. "It has been my honor, Exile."

She watched us as I led my companions out through the hallway we hadn't been down yet, toward the _Ebon Hawk_.

As we passed out of earshot, Atton spoke. "You'd talk with her, really? You don't talk to anyone."

"I'd talk to Bao-Dur," I objected. "He was there. And she's different. She just wants to understand."

Kreia snorted. "You crave acceptance, absolution. Have you learned nothing?"

"I have," I told her. "I needed to come here. I was _right_, Kreia. All those years ago, I was right. Atris was wrong, and she's still wrong, and pardon me if I don't want that girl to suffer for it."

"She is Atris' slave and happy to be so," Kreia said. "You are blind if you do not see it. You weaken yourself with compassion for one too naïve to understand one such as you in the least."

"Well, it won't last long, will it?" I snapped. "We're leaving, and she's staying, and ten to one we don't see her again for a long, long time. Maybe not ever, if the Sith or the Exchange get us."

Annoyed, I sped up and burst into the next room. I was greeted by a cacophony of whistling and chirping. I blinked and stopped. "Teethree?"

* * *

_Darden finally paused in her tale. "Thank the Force," Aithne muttered. She sprang up, paced the room once, twice, three times. Her chestnut curls flew out wildly behind her with the violence of the motion, and her golden eyes glinted feverishly bright. _

_ "Aithne…" Darden began, rising to her feet as well._

_ "Oh, she's a lie," Aithne snapped. "You and I both know she's every centimeter the lie the Council intended her to be, though she doesn't cover up anything anymore. She was real right up until the second I found out she wasn't, and she's felt faker every day since. No matter I've got no memory of it, when idiots and innocents speculate about the dark deeds and motivations of Darth Revan, they're talking about me, and I and my friends hear them talking about me." _

_ "They can't understand, and they won't ever understand," Darden said calmly. "Only a Jedi can understand the true power of the pull of the Dark Side, and only a soldier, a commander, can understand the choices that are made in war. As for the choices you made after becoming Aithne—you are Aithne—she's not a lie, she's another truth—only you can say why you made them, and it's your business, and no one else's."_

_ "Don't," Aithne said. "Just don't. I can't take anymore right now. I really can't."_

* * *

**Coming 5/15: Aithne Morrigan is emotionally involved in Darden Leona's story. But with no memory of this woman from her past, how can she know she's trustworthy? **

**And 5/19: Darden relates both how she found her plan, and how she began to suspect Kreia's. **

**I'm really excited about this next chapter. Up until now, the story has been more about Darden than Aithne, more focused on what she went through than how Aithne's responding to it. In the next chapter, we return to the present, and Aithne reemerges into prominence recognizably the woman we knew from EoLaD, six years of sadness and turmoil down the road. **

**Until then, May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	12. An Interlude

**Disclaimer: This AU version of the Exile and Revan's Mandalorian Wars relationship and post-SL reunion makes no claim to canonical veracity and receives no monetary or intellectual rights.**

* * *

An Interlude

"I understand," Darden said. "I was able to suppress the records of my identity and my role in the Mandalorian Wars. The truth didn't leak out until the hate had started dying down. Unfortunately, your role in the end of the Jedi Civil War was highly publicized. I can imagine what it might have been like."

Aithne barked a laugh. "Not if you haven't experienced it."

Darden smiled grimly. "Why do you think I asked for the records to be suppressed? It didn't occur to me until a couple months after my exile, when I realized you got the hero role at Malachor. Me? I found out what it meant to carry a name. Housewives threw produce at me, and worse. 'Exile' was probably the nicest epithet I heard. They called me traitor. Slut. Schutta. Bitch. A psychopath, a murderer. Revan's kath hound. Revan's Butcher. Ooh. 'The Demoness of Malachor.' That was probably my favorite."

Aithne flinched at every ugly name. "I…I'm sorry," she stammered.

Darden shrugged. "It hurts. I'm not going to say it doesn't. But it's essentially meaningless. All that matters is that _you_ find peace with your pain, that _you_ come to terms with who you are."

"Easier for you than for me."

"In more ways than one," Darden admitted easily. "Which just means it's even more important for you." She looked up from under her bangs at the former Sith Lord, arms folded, challenging her.

Aithne stopped pacing. She stared at the smaller woman. Emotions shifted in the back of her skull, long-forgotten, long-suppressed. The Jedi Council had overlaid fake history, fake relationships over her real, shattered memories, but the past always surfaced, stronger and darker than the veneer, in broken fragments, but genuine. As Darden Leona had spoken, this fragmented past had been rippling, roiling, in Aithne's head.

It was like looking through a kaleidoscope, like trying to climb a mountain with a case of vertigo so bad gravity seemed to be pulling her in every direction. Aithne had dealt with the feeling for years, of course, but not since the Star Forge had her past stood in front of her, close enough to touch, yet years and a lifetime away. She'd forgotten how maddening it had been then, how impossible it had been to trust anything she thought or felt.

Aithne wanted to trust Darden, but she didn't know if she could or not. The galaxy had been pretty clear that Malak was a bad guy, and Aithne had experienced it herself. Reports were varied on Darden Leona, or nonexistent. And so far, all Aithne knew of Darden was what Darden said of herself. But there was something to that Echani theory of getting to know someone through combat.

"I'd like to spar, if we could," Aithne said. "Like you promised the Echani girl you could, in the story. There should be enough room in here." She gestured to the empty space in the center of the apartment.

Darden raised an eyebrow at Aithne. "Would it help you?"

"Yes."

A smile played around Darden's lips. She called Aithne by the name Aithne knew, the identity that filled her brain, rather than the one that had played jigsaw with the galaxy. It helped that Darden had only seen her old commander's face once, made it easier to call the woman in front of her by her alias, as if she was someone different than the woman Darden had known. Except she wasn't, and Darden knew exactly what Aithne was doing, because even if Aithne didn't know Darden, Darden knew Aithne very well indeed.

It had been dangerous pursuing her. Darden knew the stories, and she had the intel. She'd half expected Aithne, given everything that had happened, to blow her off or gut her out of hand, the moment she stated her name and purpose. But miraculously, some part of the woman Aithne had been remembered her, and the keen intelligence she still possessed acknowledged the parallels, the use Darden could be to her in understanding herself. But that same intelligence demanded some proof of trustworthiness, even as the Force within Aithne and her emotions reacted to Darden's story. This challenge was a test, in which Aithne would decide if she could be relied upon, or not.

"If it would help you, let's spar," Darden answered. "But not with lightsabers. Not yet. We may do that later, but for now, let's do this hand to hand."

Aithne was about a quarter meter taller than Darden, and much heavier. But she knew that every time Darden fought, she fought at a similar disadvantage. Master Vandar had used to tell Aithne, size is no indicator of power. "Just hand to hand, no Force, just fists?" she asked.

"And no items. That's right."

Echani dueling style. Darden got it. Aithne smiled, and tossed her lightsabers over by Darden's on the cot. The two women squared off in the center of the room.

Aithne waited for Darden to attack. But she didn't, and she didn't. At last, Aithne kicked out at her, and when she did, Darden moved so quickly Aithne almost lost the fight right then. Darden ducked in under Aithne's guard, jabbed in with a hard left, knocking the air out of Aithne. Aithne fell back into a defensive mode just in time to block what would have been a decisive follow-up to her head. She stepped back, disengaged, and Darden did as well.

Aithne looked Darden over. The woman was fighting to win. If Aithne showed any weakness, Darden would take immediate advantage. She was ruthless.

The second time, Aithne attacked more cautiously. She didn't leave herself as open to counterattack. This time, Darden dodged the attack, but did not move to counter. She was careful, well aware of the power and experience of her opponent, and of her own limitations.

Aithne evaluated Darden's stance. It was very strange. The base was clearly the Soresu lightsaber form, but the set of Darden's hips had something of a Mandalorian power to them, and Darden had adapted her primary defense from the Echani style. Aithne wondered if the girl Darden had introduced recently in her tale, obviously of importance to the story, had gone on to teach her something of the forms, or if perhaps Atton had.

Aithne entered into an exploratory attack, testing Darden's defenses, trying to gauge when the small, fierce, dark-haired woman was likely to attack, and when she would merely dodge or defend. She looked for weaknesses in Darden's form, and finding none, pressed her attack, forcing Darden to move so she could check footwork.

Aithne seemed to remember another time, another place, as she fought Darden. Evenings aboard a flagship Darth Malak had later shot down. She seemed to remember a small, fierce, dark-haired girl with wide green eyes, dressed all in black armor designed by the Republic, like her make-up, to make a child look like a commander.

Aithne moved in a basic Jedi training sequence on a hunch, taking the part of the Master instructing an apprentice in Soresu. Darden grinned, and took the apprentice's part. "Like old times," she said, confirming the memories Aithne thought she had. "Except I've learned since then, and so have you. Try this!"

Darden kicked out with power and form she could only have learned from a Mandalorian, and Aithne jumped to avoid being knocked off her feet. But then she saw it. When Darden landed on her back left leg, there was just a _slight_ unbalance as she tried to reconcile the powerful set of her hips to defensive feet.

Aithne shifted, and began playing to Darden's left base. As her center of gravity was considerably higher than Darden's, this necessarily detracted a little from the power of her offense. However, Aithne found herself making much better headway against Darden. She got in a strike at Darden's left thigh, a hit to her lower body. Darden absorbed the blows with quiet grunts, but her face was immobile. Darden resisted emotion. She kept a clear head, and refused to allow her enemy the power getting angry would grant them. She was stubborn.

And Darden was fighting her power, Aithne realized. She was fighting strategically, using Aithne's size and strength against her. Only by fighting strategically as well, according to what she was learning of Darden, and not necessarily according to what made physical sense, could Aithne win.

Aithne's golden eyes glinted, and she smiled a wide, feral smile.

Darden caught the expression. The face she didn't recognize, but she recognized the attitude very well, and she smiled back, ruefully. She'd dared to think for a moment she might win, but even after all these years, she still wasn't _that_ good. _No one_ was.

Aithne began using energy conservation maneuvers, speed and agility-dependent attacks, fighting as if _she_ were smaller than Darden. It didn't make a lot of sense, but it threw Darden off her game, and that was the point. And the attacks were executed perfectly, just like everything Aithne did.

Aithne was, as ever, brutal as a boma, but now that Darden had learned to deal with that, she called upon all her considerable speed and dexterity, too. She moved like lightning, and sometimes Darden could only sense where she was going to move with the Force. The pace of the fight escalated, necessarily.

Darden started making mistakes, and Aithne pressed her back. She got in a blow to Darden's instep, another to the small of her back, but Darden herself fought with more aggression now, changing her base to Ataru, bringing in more Mandalorian and even street-fighting moves in her offense to mix with the Echani ones. She caught Aithne a ringing blow to the head, three rapid, winding punches to the gut.

Aithne remembered what the young Jedi Knight she had been had felt for the young Padawan Darden had been. Pride. Affection. Challenge. Companionship. The sound of laughter echoed from fourteen and more years ago, pealing in Aithne's ears like the bells of yesterday. The smell of sweat rose from the past like it did from the room in which Aithne and Darden fought. Aithne's limbs remembered the ache of past exercise even as they exerted themselves.

Aithne saw the shadow of the exhilaration she felt on Darden's face, but there was also something darker as they fought, almost dancing now. Darden remembered their friendship, but she remembered when it had started to go bad, too. There was no compromise in Darden's movements as she fought off Aithne's attack, thoroughly on the defensive now, and losing ground by the second. She moved with fluidity, but her center was rigid, as were her emotions and her mind. Fixed. Ruthless, clear-headed, strategic, determined. Adaptable, but ultimately, unyielding. Aithne could defeat her, but she would never be able to conquer her. Darden would embrace oblivion before she relinquished her identity or relaxed her principles.

Later memories blurred in Aithne's mind like a waterlogged watercolor. Tears—a few times, the war, the changes, had reduced the stoic Darden to tears. Aithne seemed to recall a man shouting—Malak. She'd grieved herself, and been so, so angry. There'd been betrayal. Only she wasn't sure if Darden had betrayed her, or if she had betrayed Darden.

Darden watched the emotions shift in her opponent's all-too-readable face, as well as in her aura. She was relying almost entirely upon the Force to dodge Aithne's blows. Whatever retaliation she managed to offer was purely token now. She was all but spent, and Aithne—tears were streaming down her face.

"Enough," Darden said.

Aithne checked her last kick, and the two women stood facing one another, breathing heavily, and sweating a little.

"You remember me," Darden said. It wasn't a question.

"I remember a girl," Aithne said quietly, wiping her tears with her sleeve. "The most promising of all the Jedi under me, Alek included. Not that he cared for that much."

"He liked me well enough when he was your old friend, your heroic comrade-at-arms, and I was just a kid from the backwater Enclave on Dantooine, sent there because of doubts of my Force abilities, with just a few notable relief missions with my Master," Darden said. "But later—he got jealous. The Republic troops liked me better. My victories were more strategic, if less flashy, and my casualty rate was the lowest in the Fleet, until Malachor."

"And I paid attention, didn't I?" Aithne said, looking off, as if into the distance. "I took you on, taught you some things, and when you learned, he hated it. But I didn't care. You were brilliant, you were useful, and more than that—I liked you."

"Did you? I was never sure," Darden said.

"I did. And when you didn't bend, wouldn't…no," Aithne said. "That's still too fuzzy. But I know you didn't bend. It's not in you. Even if you get the snot kicked out of you, you don't give. That means that even if you adapt, even if you hold back, you don't lie."

"No," Darden said. "So you trust me?"

"Yeah," Aithne confirmed. "I trust you." She looked the woman up and down. "You know you're amazing, right? Best I've ever fought, including dear departed Jawless Incompetent."

Darden blinked.

"Malak," Aithne translated. "How do you combine styles like that?"

"I had a lot of teachers," Darden answered. She walked over to the cot, poured water from the pitcher into her cup, and drank deeply. "And despite it all, you are _still_ better, damn you," she said when her head came up. She shook her head at Aithne in sheer admiration. "Brutal, sure, but brilliant, too. _No one's_ tried acting like I was _taller_ before. I had no idea how to react. But you know that."

"If I hadn't thought to do it, you'd have taken me. It would've been your game," Aithne said.

Darden looked straight at her. "Yes."

Aithne chuckled appreciatively. She took a step and extended her hand for the pitcher. Darden handed it over, then stooped, grabbed Aithne's own glass, and handed it over, too. Aithne poured herself a glass of water, and drank. Then she asked, "Why are you here, Darden? After everything you know about me, after everything I've done and all that's happened, why come looking?"

Darden's brow knit, and she actually thought before she answered, honestly. "You and I are the last of the Old Order. Whatever happened between us, that means something. It also means something that _you_ never cast me out. I left you, and when I did, Malak wanted to kill me, but you saved my life. You don't remember it, fine. But I do.

"You've walked my path, and I've walked yours, and that means something, too. Throughout my journey, it's been like I've been following your steps—or rejecting them, and it's seemed to me that if the Force has any use for me at all anymore, it's in finding you, in helping you understand where you've walked, and what it means."

Aithne looked at the other woman, judging her words. "My choices are my own," she said. "And they will be my own."

"We've seen that I can't stop you. It won't be any better with lightsabers. I wouldn't stop you anyway," Darden agreed. "But it's better to have illumination when choosing a path in the darkness." She sipped her water.

"Who was yours?" Aithne asked. "You said you've had a lot of teachers. Who all taught you?"

Darden gave the history of her martial education quickly and succinctly. "Vandar when I first came to the Order. Then Vrook, when I was transferred to Dantooine. Kavar was my Master when I became a Padawan. Then when I left—you did teach me, Aithne. Then the Mandalorian Wars, then ten years on the Rim, then—but I'll get to that."

"That Echani girl taught you some things, didn't she?" Aithne asked. "Or Atton."

"Both, actually," Darden laughed. "I suppose I did tell you the girl was important. Yeah, she showed up later and taught me a little about the Echani styles."

"Was it your idea to mix styles like that?"

"No, actually. Atton did that first. He's a veritable Master at it. I still haven't quite managed to integrate some of my footwork, like you saw."

Atton. Yes. Aithne was unnerved by what she had heard of Darden's pilot. She took a drink, avoiding Darden's eyes. "Is…er…is Atton as good in a fight as you are?"

Darden's eyes searched Aithne's face. "Atton wasn't and isn't a threat to me, Aithne," she said quietly. "Don't worry about that. It's true that he might have been once, but by the time he met me, that was behind him. He's better at integrating his fighting styles, but on the whole, he isn't a better fighter. He doesn't have as much experience with the individual styles he mixes, and during the wars—you've guessed that he was a soldier of some kind, but he never was in heavy melee combat until he joined up with me. At first he was a pilot. Later, his experience was more…specialized." She made her way back to her previous position on the cot, and sat.

Aithne followed her. "But he wasn't and isn't a threat," she said, very drily. "Darden, the man relaxed when you told him he could have killed you, but hadn't. That means you were right that he'd thought about it."

"Also means that he considered it a good thing that he'd thought about it, but hadn't," Darden pointed out.

Aithne sat beside Darden. "That's true. I think he'd left whatever it was in his past and started changing by the time he met you, but I also think his nasty past might be _very_ nasty. And old habits stick around, even years after the fact." She looked off into the distance again, and frowned.

Darden regarded her. "Your choices are your own, Aithne," she said. "Always."

Aithne took in a breath and came back to the present. "Special forces," she mused, refusing to be drawn into a different discussion. "I wonder on what scale and who for. And what happened. If he'd been working for anyone like that when he met you—if he somehow got caught on Peragus on some other job, he definitely would've left to return to his employers the minute he got the chance." She looked over at Darden. "Why didn't he leave, anyway? What was up with his emotions when he said he'd come with you?"

Darden's anger spiked in the Force, and her black brows knit together ominously. "_That's_ easy enough," she spat. "Bao-Dur was unconscious. I was preoccupied and elsewhere, and Kreia had a little talk with Atton. She broke into his head like she broke into the handmaidens' heads, only she found more in Atton's. Stuff he didn't want me to know at the time."

"Like the source of that Echani training."

"Among other things."

"So she blackmailed him. When did you find out?" Aithne asked.

"Not until after Kreia left the crew. If I'd known while she was onboard, bond or no bond, I'd've killed her," Darden said. Her voice shook with passion.

Aithne noted the vehemence. "But what did Kreia want with Atton?" she pressed.

Darden's anger left the air, and she leaned back, steepling her fingers thoughtfully. "Well, at the time, I had so few allies, you know, and Bao-Dur wasn't a pilot," Darden explained. "Kreia knew we'd need help, and she tried to recruit some. But if she'd known we'd accumulate allies like we did, I don't think she'd have bothered with Atton. Actually, I think she'd have done the opposite of what she did, and tried to force him away."

Aithne was interested. "Really?"

"Yeah. Atton did decide later that he actually wanted to come along, despite Kreia's blackmail, and he told me once that he might have come with me anyway, even that early. All Kreia's blackmail did was turn something Atton might've done anyway into a power play, but she came to really regret Atton's involvement in our adventures."

Aithne looked down at Darden speculatively. "He messed with her vision for you," she guessed. "She was trying to control you. Atton made it difficult. Not only does it seem like you were already more disposed to trust and confide in Atton with his unreadable character than you were disposed to trust and confide in Kreia with her unreadable motivations, your thoughts and feelings about him had been in flux and turmoil since you met, and they were already surprising even you. Bond or no bond, it would have been difficult for Kreia to predict your behavior regarding Atton, and it was already looking likely that he'd end up with more influence over you than she would. No, not a good situation if you're trying to control someone."

"Hah! You don't even know the half of it," Darden laughed. "Remember how Kreia said Atton's thoughts were slippery back on Peragus? Atton kept her out better than anyone but Bao-Dur, and with Atton it was a calculated thing, not a species thing. That Kreia got in Atton's head at all is a mini-miracle. But we'll get to that."

Aithne tilted her head back slightly. "I'd've killed him," she announced lazily. "Killed him and made it look like an accident, been there to tell you how foolish it was to get attached, but to comfort you myself afterwards."

"Kreia didn't often kill people directly," Darden said.

"I think I'm ready to go on, if you want," Aithne said. "You'd found Teethree?"

"Yeah," Darden said. "He was imprisoned in an energy field, hooked up to an enormous computer, but he didn't look any worse off for having been stolen. I was really glad to see him…

* * *

**Coming 5/22: Darden relates how she found her plan, and how she began to suspect Kreia's. Aithne begins to wonder about Darden's abilities to connect to others, and to what extent it is a strength, and what extent a weakness. **

**And 5/26: Darden tells how, aiming for Onderon, she ended up on Dxun instead, and explains how her first meeting with a succession of Aithne's old friends and allies came about. **


	13. XI

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.**

* * *

XI.

Leader

_"Well, hello there!" I greeted our little astromech friend._

Teethree whistled at me so fast I couldn't track what he was saying, but I got the distinct impression he was glad to see me, too.

Atton folded his arms. "Well, hey, if it isn't the one who stole the _Ebon Hawk_. Not so smug now, are you, you little thief?"

I laughed, but Kreia was not amused. "Don't be a fool. Atris stole the _Ebon Hawk_."

"Says you," Atton muttered, glaring at the droid. I could only laugh again as I went to the computer imprisoning Teethree. I disabled the energy field. Teethree disconnected from the computer and whistled up at me.

"Yeah, a lot's happened," I agreed. "Are you all right? She didn't do anything horrible to you, did she?"

He chirped a reply that no, he was still fully functional and ready to serve. He then remarked that Atris had downloaded his entire memory core while he'd been imprisoned.

"Why would she want what's in your memory core?"

Teethree whirred vaguely, then said he had something I really should see. "Wait, okay?" I told him. "We'll be at the ship in a moment."

Teethree rolled along with us to the hangar. The _Ebon Hawk_ was sitting there ready. "Home sweet home," I murmured, walking up the open boarding ramp. I put a hand on the side of the ship. Bao-Dur had started her up, and she was humming with energy, ready to fly. "You're a lot of trouble," I told the _Ebon Hawk_ quietly. "You know that?" Oh, but Aithne, isn't she worth it?

I turned to Atton. "Get us off this rock, Rand, before Atris changes her mind or fifty people that want to kill us drop out of the sky. We'll decide where to go later."

He grinned. "You got it, Darden." He headed for the cockpit, and two minutes later the ship bucked as it soared out of the Telosian irrigation system and into the sky.

We were orbiting Telos when I called all the small crew together around the little table in the security room that I'd decided would double as a conference room on the ship. Huh. You, too? "Well. That's Telos behind us, anyway."

"Now we're off that dejarik board of a planet I suggest we burn sky until we see lines," Atton motioned.

Teethree beeped.

"What's up?" I asked him.

He whirred and his photoreceptor flickered through a rainbow of colors. I laughed. "He—I don't believe it!" I told the others. "He downloaded all Atris' files when she was downloading his memory!"

Teethree chirped an affirmation, and repeated that there was something I might want to see. Then he told me what it was.

"What is the machine saying?" Kreia wanted to know.

I looked around at Kreia, Bao-Dur, and Atton. Bao-Dur knew what T3-M4 was saying, and he looked grim. I swallowed. "If we're going to be traveling together for a while, all of you might as well know," I said. "Teethree—go ahead and play the holo. It's just history now."

Teethree whirred, and his projector flared to life. Once again I saw the airy chamber of the Council room on Coruscant, and the five occupied chairs in it. I saw myself, ten years younger, back when I wore that ridiculous military bun, in Jedi robes, carrying the lightsaber Atris had shown me on Telos.

"But that's—"Atton said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's my sentencing."

"You look like you've just—"

"Shut up," I told him.

He did.

The holo-Darden stood before the Council, her mouth a thin line, her head held high. Her shoulders were set, though, as if they bore a world's weight, and she was as pale as a corpse.

Holo-Vrook spoke from his chair, as severe as ever. "Do you know why we have called you here?" he asked, majestic and terrible.

I heard again the words I had spoken that day. "Whatever your reasons, speak them, or let me go."

With a pang I saw holo-Kavar looking sad and judgmental. I still couldn't believe he'd participated in this. I could have predicted the others might turn on me. But not my Master, not my friend. "As Revan summoned you, so have you come full circle to return to the Jedi."

Holo-Zez-Kai Ell spoke next. "Why did you defy us?" he demanded from underneath his superb mustache. "The Jedi are guardians of the peace and have been for centuries. This call to war undermines all that we have worked for."

"Is Revan your Master now?" asked holo-Atris. "Or is it the horror you wrought at Malachor that has caused you to see the truth at last."

"That's Atris," I murmured to my companions around the table.

The Darden in the holo looked pained and angry. "Maintaining the Council's mandate for peace would not have stopped the Mandalorians' war," she said in a clear, ringing voice. "The slaughter would have continued had I and the others not gone. They had to be stopped. I stopped them, and now there may be peace."

"You refuse to hear us," Zez-Kai Ell had said. "You have shut us out, and so have shut yourself to the galaxy."

I watched myself reply, "The Jedi Council is not the galaxy."

"You are exiled," holo-Vash said. Although I had not noticed the first time, now on the holo I saw she looked sorry. "And you are a Jedi no longer."

In the holo, young-Darden's hands shook, and a shadow came over her face. She turned on her heel without a word, but Vrook Lamar stopped her.

"There is one last thing," he said. "Your lightsaber. Surrender it to us."

Slowly, holo-Darden turned. Her mouth opened, but she said nothing. Her eyes flashed, and she activated her lightsaber. Then she whirled it over her head, and plunged the silvery blue double-blade deep into the center stone of the Council chamber. She gave a deep, mocking bow, then walked out. The recording didn't follow her, but I remembered how I had broken down into bitter, anguished sobs not thirty seconds later.

* * *

_Aithne swore, angry. "If they couldn't see what you were, Darden—what you are—you know, I always thought the Jedi Council, for all their vaunted vision, were blind idiots stumbling around in the dark. Like Hortath." She laughed bitterly. "Well-intentioned, but so arrogant and self-righteous it hardly matters. Not that they had the monopoly on arrogance, of course."_

_ "Thanks, but that's not all," Darden said, with a wan smile. "They didn't chuck me out because of what I did in the Mandalorian Wars."_

_ "But they said—"_

_ "I know. I was surprised, too. But there was more to that recording."_

* * *

"There is much defiance in her," holo-Kavar told the other Council members.

"You were correct, Kavar," Vash said. "When she was here, I felt it. It was as if she was not there, more like an echo"

"The war has touched the youngest of the Order," another Master remarked. "Many of them have lost themselves in battle against the Mandalorians."

"We have not lost a Jedi this day," Atris had declared. I saw how in the holo she was almost shaking with anger. "You felt it. She has lost herself. She is no Jedi—she walked Revan's path, but she was not strong enough."

"I fear it is our teachings that may have led Revan to choose the path that she did," Zez-Kai Ell observed reflectively, stroking his mustache. He'd been troubled, in the holo.

"_We_ are not the ones who taught her," Atris snapped viciously.

"We take responsibility, Atris, not cast blame," Vash rebuked her gently.

"The choice of one was the choice of us all," Kavar added. "Revan's teacher intended no harm, and Revan has had many teachers since."

"Yet they all stem from the same source," Atris argued. "Her teachings violated the Jedi Code and lead all who listen to the Dark Side, as they did the Exile."

"You are wrong," Vash said simply. "The Dark Side is not what I sensed in Darden Leona. Surely the rest of you felt it, as well. That emptiness we felt—she has changed."

"Whatever that—wound—was," Atris spat, "It was of the Dark Side. We should not have let her depart. She will simply join Revan again, or perhaps worse."

"What would you have be done with her, Atris?" Zez-Kai Ell challenged her. "Be mindful of your feelings! This is not Revan who stood before you. This one walks a different path."

"No," Kavar had said thoughtfully. "Although she may walk a different path in time. We let her go because we must. Where she travels, she carries her destination with her."

"Malachor V should have been her grave!" holo-Atris said, as she had said ten years later to me, just an hour ago. "You saw it in her walk, and in the Force. It was as if she was already dead."

"No," Vrook said. "Not death. Many battles remain for that one, if what we have seen is true. But the future is a shifting thing, and she cuts like a blade through it."

Holo-Vash had looked troubled, and she suddenly said, "We should have told her the truth. A Jedi deserves to know."

"No good would have come from it," Vrook told her, "Even if what you believed was true. There is still the matter of Revan, and such truths could leave us vulnerable on two fronts."

"Perhaps in many years we will call her before us and explain what happened to her, and how she may be healed," Kavar had said. "Until then, she must accept her journey."

"But she may never discover the truth," Vash objected. "And she will never know why we cast her out."

"Then that is the future we must accept," Vrook had said.

The holo ended. Teethree shut off his projector, and I fell back in my chair, stunned.

Atton whistled. "Those Jedi sure like their secrets, don't they?"

"No—"I murmured. "There's got to be more." I stood. "Teethree, there's more, isn't there?"

Teethree beeped a negative, but then added something.

"Show me."

"What are we looking at?" Atton asked.

"List of the ex-Jedi Atris knows about and last known locations."

The holopics flashed above Teethree and onto the table. Locations were beside them in block white print. Vrook Lamar, Dantooine. Atris, Telos. Zez-Kai Ell, Nar Shaddaa. Kavar, Onderon. Vash, Korriban. I breathed in and out three times before I could speak.

"It would be them, wouldn't it," I said then. I looked over at Bao-Dur. "Just like it had to be you on Telos. This can't be coincidence."

"There is some larger plan at work here," Kreia agreed. "And we are walking into it. This is far too convenient to be anything but a trap."

I stared at the table. "They know something about me, about what happened," I said. "I don't think they exiled me because I went to war. I don't think they stripped me of the Force. I have to find them. And anyway, we need their help against the Sith. Teethree, can you show us the list again?"

Teethree played the list over again. This time, though, someone spoke from the door.

"Those are Atris' records you have stolen."

I whirled only to see that girl, the last of the handmaidens.

"What the hell are you doing on our ship?" Atton demanded, drawing his blaster.

"I have come to join you," she said evenly, looking not the least bit threatened by Atton. "I can help you against this threat."

"Well, we don't want your help," Atton snapped. "Or any of your sisters'."

The handmaiden held up her hands and slowly walked into the room. "It's just me," she said, watching me. "And I am doing this because Atris believes you will need help."

I kept my eyes on the girl. "Put the blaster away, Atton. We're not going to kill her," I said.

"She's a spy, Darden! We didn't ask for her help, and we don't need it!"

Bao-Dur shifted. "If her intentions were good then I don't understand why she would have to stowaway," he offered.

I raised an eyebrow, searching the girl's face. Actually, I was inclined to believe the opposite. If Atris wanted to keep an eye on me, I thought it much more likely for her to order me to take one of the handmaidens along. Probably this one did mean to report back to Atris, but I thought that she just might be here on her own initiative. "Girl, what do _you_ think?" I asked her. "Do we need your help?"

The Echani girl held her head high and swept her gaze over Kreia, Bao-Dur, T3-M4, Atton, and I. "I think the strength of the enemy is unknown, but it is greater than five can hope to defeat without aid," she said firmly.

Basically she was saying that I'd need all the help I could get, and whether or not she was spying, I wasn't in a position to turn her down. Galling, but she had a point. "Well, that's the truth," I admitted. "Fine. We'll take you on."

"Indeed?" Kreia demanded sharply. "But of course—what does one more matter to our journey? I have had enough of this—I will be in my chambers."

She swept past the handmaiden as coldly as Atris herself could have done. Atton holstered his gun with an expression of disgust.

"Yeah, me too," he said. "I'll be in my chambers. But since I don't have any, I guess I'll just go to the cockpit like I always do. If she's coming with us, she gets the cargo hold. Might remind her how fun it is to get locked up."

He left, too. T3-M4 beeped and rolled off, though not coldly. Bao-Dur stayed for a moment, uncertain. Then he said, "Welcome aboard." He sounded doubtful, but it was an effort. He nodded to me. "General."

Atris' handmaiden's face remained impassive as one by one the crew left. Then she said, "The cargo hold is enough. I assure you, there is little I need. I will attend to myself."

I was ashamed of my crew's unfriendliness. "Atton, Kreia, and I have been through a lot in the past week," I tried to explain. "And Bao-Dur fought for me in the Mandalorian Wars. They're—protective of me. They're worried. I hope you can understand that."

The girl nodded frostily and turned to leave as well. I stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.

"I'll talk to them," I promised. "There's no reason in the galaxy why you shouldn't sleep in the women's quarters with Kreia and me. Or in the medical room. There's a cot, and I go there sometimes, when—"

The handmaiden cut me off, though her manner had thawed considerably. "It is no matter, Darden Leona. I am used to worse conditions. But—I thank you for your kindness." She broke away, then, presumably to go make herself at home in the cargo hold. I sighed.

I decided to tackle the easiest first. Bao-Dur alone among the crew had not shown active hostility toward the handmaiden. I found him in the garage. The _Ebon Hawk_ had undergone immense repairs on Peragus, and here was where it was most obvious. The reworked hull was only barely airtight. The paneling wasn't complete on it, and the framework was still set up from floor to ceiling along a good two or three meters of the wall. Yeah, the _Hawk_ looked like a hybrid abomination from the junkyard. It doesn't anymore. Bao-Dur was standing by the framework, holding a blowtorch to it, melting the bars and reworking the molten metal over the hull to panel the walls.

The insistence upon fixing things made me grin. "You can't just leave it alone, can you?"

Bao-Dur looked at me, and continued his work. "Space travel is boring, especially when we don't know where we're going," he said. "It gives me something to do. I'm not sure who got your ship up and running, but I'm amazed that she's even spaceworthy. Whoever made these repairs doesn't think like most mechanics. But don't worry, I'll get everything in shape."

I went over to the workbench built into the interior wall. Somebody—perhaps Bao-Dur, perhaps the handmaidens—had put a bin of spare components and weaponry parts beside it. Wherever they had come from, I was delighted. I drew my double vibrosword and started working.

"I wanted to thank you for at least welcoming the handmaiden back there," I said to Bao-Dur, behind me. "Even though you didn't mean it, I appreciated it, and I think she did, too."

"What you say goes for me, General," Bao-Dur told me. "If you think she isn't a threat, then she's a friend."

I worked open the grip-casing on my vibrosword to mess with the wiring. "She might be a threat," I admitted, "But if we treat her like a friend, anyway, at the very least she'll relax her guard and we might learn something. But if she is a threat, there's no way we can turn her into a friend by ostracizing and disrespecting her. And anyway, she's right that we can't afford to turn down her help."

The wiring sparked. Bao-Dur was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "Why are you fixing that?"

"Because I want my sword to be more than a pointy stick that shocks people."

"No—"he said. "I mean, is there a reason you don't carry a lightsaber, instead?"

I rewired in an improved energy cell and started reworking the grip. "You saw what happened to it, Bao-Dur," I told him, finishing the grip and starting to sharpen the edge, making sure to keep the power switched off. For a moment, the only sounds to be heard were the gas from Bao-Dur's blowtorch and the whizz-whizz of my sharpening. "Atris has it now," I added finally. "A reminder of my 'insult to the Order,' she says."

"That's not your lightsaber anymore," Bao-Dur replied, speaking with unusual fervor. "Good or bad, that belonged to someone who served Revan in the wars, not the person you are now. You could build another one if you wanted to. But you know that."

"I've never wanted to build another one before," I confessed. But I stopped sharpening the vibrosword. I reached into my pocket and brought out the lightsaber energy cell fixture Chodo Habat had given me on Telos. "It didn't feel right. But now—I can feel the Force again. I'm out looking for the Jedi. Everyone thinks I am one no matter how I deny it. I think…I'm starting to think that it might be time."

"It is time," Bao-Dur said with certainty. I heard his blowtorch shut off, and he walked over. "A lightsaber is part of who you are, General. Without it, you're not complete. And you've been incomplete for too long, I think. What do you have there?"

I handed him the fixture.

He turned it over. "You can use this to build a new lightsaber, along with some other parts."

"I know," I said. "A power cell for this fixture, but I need some other stuff, too. Only I can't remember, exactly."

"I think I can help you out there," Bao-Dur said. "You also need an emitter matrix, lens, and focusing crystal—and fixtures for all of them, but those are easy to build. Though I have to admit, the crystal is beyond my means. Never did understand them. The parts are fairly common, though a Jedi once told me that it's best if your lightsaber reflects you, and if it is constructed of things that identify it as your own. I can help you find the parts, and make sure they're usable."

He pressed the fixture back into my hand and closed my fingers over it. "Thanks," I told him. "You know, you're right. It's time I did carry a lightsaber again."

He walked back over to his work. "I'm here to help, General." He picked his blowtorch back up, and slipping the fixture back into my pocket, I bent back over my vibrosword. Until I did have my lightsaber, I'd need it. We worked in companionable silence for a while, but by and by Bao-Dur spoke again. "General—that holo. It's hard to remember that you had other consequences, not just Malachor. I didn't want to talk about the war, but why did you decide to fight? Why did you go in the first place?"

I finished sharpening my sword and turned to face the Iridonian. "I'm talking about the war more and more now. If anyone has a right to ask me anything, though, it's you." I picked up the vibrosword, and twirled it a few times to check the balance and the weight. "The Jedi are sworn to protect the defenseless," I said then. "We were allied with the Republic, and the Mandalorians were destroying worlds. The Council was serving no one with inaction. So when Revan called, I felt that it was the right thing to do, to go. The only thing to do."

Bao-Dur shut off his blowtorch again, though he still faced the panel. "The war went poorly before Revan and the Jedi lent aid to the Republic. Many of us believed the Jedi to be cowards who were afraid to face the Mandalorian threat. I remember when word of the Mandalorian attacks arrived on Iridonia. My people had colonies on the Outer Rim. Many of them were among the first systems to fall."

"As good a reason as any for joining," I told him.

Bao-Dur had been kneeling to work on the base panels. He looked up at me from his position on the floor, and his eyes challenged me and pled with me all at once. "I did not join because I wanted to protect, though," he told me. "I hated them. I wanted to destroy them—to give them the mercy they gave the people they conquered. I remember the thrill I felt when I fought them in battle. Victories were rare, but we celebrated every Mandalorian's death. Do you know how it felt?"

His voice was as soft as ever, but passion underscored every single word. His face was knit with remembered anger, remembered hatred. Aithne, it's a weird sort of dichotomy, to hear such hatred from such a kind person. But I know better than anyone that it wasn't out of place. Bao-Dur designed the Mass Shadow Generator. I saw what his mind and heart was capable of then, and more recently, I had seen Bao-Dur fight so aggressively that I had had to mark his every movement to make sure he didn't get himself killed.

I was disturbed by his passion, but I wanted to be gentle, too. I don't have any room to judge, after all. But I had to be honest. "I don't," I said. "I was nearly as sorry to kill the Mandalorians as I was to sacrifice my own troops. I wished they would stop and I wanted the war to end. But—perhaps I had been trained. Conditioned to resist hate and anger."

Bao-Dur dropped his gaze. "I couldn't do that," he said. "It was almost as though the battle took control of me, drove me forward. It's always on my mind, now. That loss of control blinded me, turned me into a weapon. I fight against it, now, but—I still struggle. I think you saw that, on Telos."

"I did," I confirmed.

"I—just needed to get that off my chest," he said, a little awkwardly. He picked up his blowtorch again. I knelt beside him and squeezed his shoulder.

"Hey."

He looked over at me.

"We all did things we regret," I told him. "We all became things we regret. Take what you learned from it, and try to leave the guilt behind."

"Have you?" Bao-Dur challenged me gently.

"No," I admitted, "But fixing things helps, doesn't it?"

"I forgot," he said. "You do it, too."

"Yeah. Learned blasters, armor. A little about droids. Apartment furniture, even. Whatever was on hand, paid credits, and kept me busy. Now it seems I'm trying to fix the galaxy."

"You and me both, General," Bao-Dur said as I stood.

I went to find Atton next. He was in the cockpit, like he'd said he'd be. He didn't even turn around as I swung into the co-pilot's seat.

"What, you ready to continue interrogating me? I think I've got some childhood details you haven't tried to rip out of me yet," he said.

I swiveled around to face him. "I said it didn't matter, and I meant it," I reminded him. "Whether or not you know Echani combat, or any other interesting skills, you're an important part of this crew, and I'm glad you're with me."

Atton had had his feet up on the instruments' panel. Now he took them off and turned to look at me at last. "Uh—thanks. So, if you're not here to interrogate me—why are you here?"

"We've been orbiting Telos for an hour now," I said. "The Republic will show up to tow us or something pretty soon. Set a course for Onderon."

"Onderon, huh? Why there first?" he wanted to know.

"I knew Master Kavar well," I told him. "He actually taught me, for a time. Afterward he was still my friend. I figure if we're looking for ex-Jedi who don't want to be found, it might be best to start with someone that might not mind a visit from me too much. Besides—from what we heard on Telos, trouble's brewing on Onderon. In a few months we might not be able to get in at all."

"Yeah, okay," Atton said. "I don't know the quickest route there—busted navicomputer. Once I plug in the coordinates that beeping tin can gave me, it could come up that it's a anywhere from a week to a month to get there."

"Fine. We're stocked for two months."

Atton started plugging in coordinates. I watched him as he worked, bracing my forearms on my knees. I wondered what he thought of me, now he'd put together everything and realized I'd given the order at Malachor. "Does it change things?" I asked him, as he finished plugging in coordinates and started the sequence to jump to hyperspace.

"Does what change things?" Atton asked, punching it. The ship shivered, then leapt into the whiteness, en route to Onderon.

"Knowing who I was, what I did."

"It kind of explains a lot, actually," he stalled, stabilizing the _Ebon Hawk_ now.

"You know what I mean."

His expression indicated he knew exactly what I meant, but further than that I couldn't tell. I was growing stronger in the Force every minute, and I was starting to get a grip on why Kreia had called Atton slippery. His emotions were curiously blank to me. It was like staring at a white wall, looking at him through the Force. I had to rely almost entirely on what he said, and on his body language. And as I mentioned before, Atton is a very good liar.

But he smiled. "You're still that crazy Jedi that walks around in her underwear to me," he said. "You haven't done that lately, by the way. Might be nice to give it another go. Remember the good old days when droids were shooting at us on Peragus and we weren't on a wild gizka chase for Jedi around the galaxy."

Whether it was true or not, he was saying that whatever he thought of me, he would continue treating me the same way he had before. I appreciated it, though not so much the reference. "Yeah—I think I'll give the underwear a pass," I said. The second the words passed my lips I knew they were a mistake, but of course Atton jumped on it right away.

"Really?" he said, cocking an eyebrow suggestively at me. "You going commando under there, General?"

Infuriatingly, I found myself blushing. He grinned. "I ought to slap you sometimes," I muttered.

"But you haven't," he pointed out. "Hey, does that mean I've got a shot?"

"Through the head someday, maybe," I retorted.

"Ooh, I'm scared. Beware, Exile! Your feelings reveal you! Anger is of the Dark Side, Darden Leona," he said in a mocking imitation of a Jedi Council member, though I couldn't tell which one.

"So is passion, or so we're told," I replied seriously. "Atton, we really do need to talk about…"

For some reason, I couldn't finish. I backed out. "The handmaiden," I said quickly, instead.

Atton jiggled the controls. "What about the spy?" he asked.

"Try to be nice?" I said. "She works for Atris, but that's not her fault. And plus, it's more Atris' style to order a handmaiden with us than to have one stowaway. I can't help thinking the girl may be here on her own initiative."

"You think she's not reporting to that Jedi schutta that hates your guts?" Atton demanded.

"No, I think she almost certainly is. But I also think she's doing it to make up for running away," I told him.

"Well, she seemed nice enough on Telos," Atton admitted grudgingly. "Though that battle obsession she's got is pretty weird. And just killing her—"he looked over at me. I sensed conflict within him, as though he were uncertain himself of his thoughts on the matter. "I don't know," he said finally. "It'd just be wrong, wouldn't it?"

The question came out like a guess. I got the impression that if I'd left it up to Atton, he'd kill the girl, or at least drop her off without a transmitter first port we hit. But I smiled at him just as if it'd been an honest observation, and I felt Atton's certainty solidify, felt his fear of the girl's motives diminish. "Yeah, I think so, too," I told him. "But that's not enough—not killing her, that is. It's just—if we treat her like an enemy there is no possible way she won't be one. If we treat her like we're grateful for her help, like we want to help her, too, be her friend—"

"I get you," he said. "All right. Play nice with the spy. You got it."

"Thanks, Atton," I said. "And thanks for worrying, too. I know you were just looking out for me." After I said it, it occurred to me that acknowledging his irrational protectiveness of me wasn't the best way to diminish it and get him to follow his own sensible instincts. "That is—"I fumbled. "I keep saying the wrong thing to you!" I burst out, suddenly angry. "I didn't mean—"

Atton pressed the button for autopilot then, and rotated in his chair to face me. "What? To imply that I might give a damn what happens to you?" He laughed, though there was an edge of frustration to the laugh, like a knife. "Sweetheart, do me a favor? Shut up. We're going to be spending a lot of time together. We can be friends, all right?"

_Friends_. I hadn't had a friend in _years_, Aithne. "Are we?" I asked Atton quietly. "I'd like to be."

"Yeah," Atton said. "So don't sweat it." He paused, then added, "Means you can hug me any time you want. Or—"

"Spacebrain, do me a favor?" I interrupted, mimicking his earlier tone. "Shut up."

He laughed appreciatively. "All right."

My pazaak deck was in my pocket, and I took it out. "We on course for Onderon?" I asked Atton.

"Yeah—we'll get there in about ten days," he told me.

I held up my deck invitingly. Atton grinned. "Can I interest you in—"

"No," I snapped, cutting off his invitation to play strip-pazaak. "Republic Senate rules."

"You'll still lose," Atton said, bringing out his own pazaak deck. "I'll deal."

I went to see the handmaiden after I left Atton. It had been several hours since the departure from Telos, and I knew the girl might be getting tired. And okay, fine, Aithne, I was a little afraid to go talk to the old woman. I could still feel her fuming, even though Kreia was silent in the back of my head and her thoughts were locked behind her mental barrier.

The last of the handmaidens was not sleeping. She was not resting or sitting. I walked into the cargo hold to find the girl mid-kick. The handmaiden landed on both feet and bowed. "Oh, welcome, Exile. Is there something you need?"

The deference in her voice clashed with her use of 'Exile.' She looked somewhat puzzled that I would be visiting her at all.

I swung up to sit on a cargo barrel and looked at the girl. "You know, you really don't have to stay here," I told her again. "I'll deal with Kreia. Or you really can have the med bay."

"The solitude suits me," the girl replied. "See?" She gestured to the corner, and I saw she had already set up a pallet next to a small white pack. "I assure you I will be quite comfortable." She closed her mouth, then opened it, but hesitated.

"What?" I prompted her.

"You are different than I anticipated, given what Atris told us of you," the handmaiden admitted. "You are…kind…to me, even though the rest of your companions distrust me. And—it is more than that. In your features, your stance, there is a certain calm about you that I did not expect, and did not notice, even on Telos."

I considered this. "Yes, well, I suppose I am calmer than one might think I'd be, given half the galaxy is after us, I'm on a probably useless hunt for the Jedi that exiled me from the Order, and you're probably a spy." I smiled at the girl. "But it did some good after all, talking to Atris, for all I did not look for it."

The girl had not blushed when I'd accused her of being a spy, and now she stepped closer to me. "I heard your conversation—it was not calm," she said. "If I may—what good did it do you?"

"The questions your mistress asked and the points she made were ones I had begun to ask and make myself, alone in my exile," I told her. "Facing her, I realized the truth, and now I feel more certain of myself and my choices than I have in a long time."

The girl looked troubled. She bit her lip, then gestured at me. "There is an energy about you, a lightness in your movements. It is something I have seen in only the most disciplined and revered of the Echani weaponmasters, yet it comes to you with ease."

"I feel better than I have in a long time," I replied. "More in touch with what's going on around me in the present, and less hung up on the past. More invested in the ones around me, and less lost in self-doubt."

"It shows in your features. It is beautiful to see."

She was so serious. "Look, do you have a name?" I asked her. 'It's awkward, calling you 'girl,' or 'servant of Atris,' or 'handmaiden,' or 'last of the handmaidens' all the time."

The girl smiled, a little condescendingly. "Before entering Atris' service, yes, I carried a name, as all the children of the Echani do."

"But you don't carry it anymore, and you aren't going to tell me," I concluded.

"It is not important," she agreed. "My title and rank is of consequence, not my name. I take value in Atris' service, not in myself."

"But you're a person," I argued. "With an identity and thoughts and feelings. You aren't just a servant. You ought to take value in yourself, too."

"We all have value in our oaths to others and the promises we make," the girl replied. "When we make that pledge, we are pledging ourselves to something greater. When importance is placed on the self, then by such acts is the galaxy unmade."

I kicked the barrel underneath me as I thought. "Hmm. There's some truth in that, though I've never seen it taken to such an extreme before. Is that what you think of me?"

The girl regarded me. "If reasons of the self are why you turned away, then yes, perhaps there was a judgment there, but it was not intended as an attack."

Her words implied that she had not necessarily decided that I had been selfish to defy the Jedi Order and fight in the Mandalorian Wars. Her tone was undeniably respectful. And considering that she had stowed away with me, the sum of it was that the girl interested me very much, indeed. "Atris thinks that I lost myself when I disobeyed the Council and went to war," I said slowly. "Do you?"

She dropped her gaze. "I do not know. That is a question you must ask yourself."

I slid off the barrel and walked over to her. "I know what I think," I told her. "I want to know what you think, last of the Handmaidens, since that is the only name you will give me to call you."

She was silent, awkward. I decided to drop it for now. "What were you doing, before I came in?" I asked instead.

"I am training," the girl said. "So that if danger should strike, my body and my reflexes will be prepared." She paused, and smiled shyly. "That, and I had forgotten how long hyperspace travel can be. If I do not have something to focus on, I fear my sanity will erode as well."

"We're en route to Onderon," I informed her. "Atton says we'll be there in about ten days. The ship ought to be on autopilot now, for the time being. If you don't feel like sleeping yet, or perhaps tomorrow, you could go find him. He's always up for a game of pazaak. I was just playing with him earlier."

"The pilot with the Echani training you were unaware of," the girl said, suddenly harsh. "My second sister told me, before you found me. I do not trust him, Exile. I will play no games with him."

"Let's be honest, here," I said wearily. "This ship is full of distrust. I have a good reason to distrust everyone onboard, even the utility droid and including you. Everyone else really does distrust everyone else."

"That is untrue," the Handmaiden argued. "Your words indicate you trust everyone onboard, despite whatever reasons you may have to distrust them. And the Iridonian trusts you." She smiled a bit. "We heard much of the Iridonian when we served Atris," she told me. "Atris believed the Iridonian held the knowledge to restoring Telos."

"Yes, and so she siphoned power from the network he was using to do it," I said. I tried to keep my tone clinical for the girl's sake, but she shifted uncomfortably nonetheless.

"The reasons for such siphoning of power are complicated," she said defensively. "And I do not know all the answers. But there is something greater being achieved. The teachings at the Academy must be preserved, even if it draws strength from Telos."

"Bao-Dur spent a lot of time preserving the strength of Telos," I said. "I didn't—but I certainly spent a lot of effort."

The Handmaiden bowed. "So I understand. I honor you for what you have done for Telos, and the Iridonian."

"So does Atris," I mused, getting over my annoyance now. "At least, according to you she acknowledges Bao-Dur's part of what's been done. She thought he was the key to saving Telos?"

Out the door of the cargo hold, we could still hear Bao-Dur working on the ship. The sound of the blowtorch had been replaced with the sound of a hammer as he beat his new paneling back into a beautiful shape. "Yes," the Handmaiden said. "His skill with machines is something beyond which most can aspire to. His shield technology surpasses the designs of even the most skilled of Echani power architects. I do not know if you realize what it means to have such a one respect and follow you," she added, with a little more confidence than she had displayed before "The Iridonian allied himself with no one on the entire world of Telos, yet he will follow you at the risk of his own life. His stance, in many ways mirrors yours. Where he walks, he carries a world upon his shoulders. And, like you, I do not know if he has ever faced it."

Though I gave the order at Malachor, Aithne, remember it was Bao-Dur that pressed the button to activate the weapon he designed. I stepped to the Handmaiden and grabbed her shoulder tightly. "You see much, last of the Handmaidens. You can discuss what you see with me. But promise me now that you won't talk about it with Bao-Dur. I don't think it'd go over too well."

The Handmaiden looked down at me without fear. She reached up with her hand and took my wrist. Her grip was like a vise. "I will respect your wishes, and his," she said, removing my hand. "Forgive me, but do not threaten me. I am not afraid of you."

I stepped back, regretting the fear which had prompted the action. "I was not trying to frighten you," I apologized. "It's important to me, though, that Bao-Dur face his past in his own time, not yours."

The girl's face softened. "I understand. And you, Exile?"

"The minute I stepped aboard that Republic ship I was coming back to face my past, though I didn't know it," I said. "With every day I am forced more to own who I am and who I was. I find increasingly that to choose to be nothing in the future is no longer a choice I can make. Whatever I decide, I shall become something—to my companions, and to the galaxy."

The Handmaiden bowed in acknowledgment. She opened her mouth voicelessly again. She was very shy, very uneasy, I realized. It had taken me a while, because she was so outspoken. But her outspokenness proceeded more out of naïveté than comfort with me. I wondered what she might say and ask if she were truly at ease. So I decided to challenge her, so that she could fight me like you just fought me.

I started stretching. "Hey—you were training. Would you like to show me some of what you practice?" I asked her.

The Handmaiden's eyes lit up, but she hesitated. "Training is something reserved for certain caste members of the Echani…" she stopped then, and nodded agreement. "But I do not see the harm in instructing you in some basic principles." She started stretching as well. "I do not understand how you and Atris fight, but I will instruct you on how Echani children are raised on warfare."

"I'd appreciate it."

The Handmaiden started some simple kicks and punches, limbering up after several minutes of conversation. "All Echani principles rely on foundations," she told me. "If one does not understand even the most basic of fighting moves, it is not possible to understand the higher tiers. It is similar to learning the alphabet before being able to use words, then sentences."

"Or learning syllogisms and fallacies before being able to use them in speech and reasoning," I added, following. "I'm ready when you are."

The two of us squared off. "As a foundation, I will instruct you in our elementary movements," the Handmaiden explained. "The body itself is the first weapon you must master. It is not something that can be described—let us duel, you and I, and that should teach you more than my words can. Use only your hands and feet to strike at me—nothing else, or our combat shall be over. Do not resort to using any items or any Force techniques you may possess—such things will obstruct learning." As she spoke, she began removing her tunic. I blinked and looked at the open door.

"Wait—no items? You mean no clothes, too?"

"Duels among the Echani are rituals," the girl explained with some puzzlement, as she peeled off her pants and stood there in her underwear. "They do not allow for armor or anything that restricts movement." Yeah, aren't you glad I'm not that orthodox?

I hesitated. "Fine," I agreed at last. "But—"I walked over and hit the button to seal the cargo hold door. "Let's keep this private."

Only then did I start taking off my clothes. The Handmaiden looked at me curiously. "Are you not comfortable with your body, then, Exile? It is the first thing to learn."

"It's not that," I said. "It's—"I wondered how I'd explain to the sheltered kid that I'd never hear the end of it if Atton was walking by to the portside dorm and saw me in my underwear. Again. "Never mind. Let's just do this."

"You are ready?"

"I am."

"Very well," the Handmaiden said. "I shall match my movements to resist your efforts. And do not hold back, or I will hurt you."

I didn't hold back, Aithne, but I did move more slowly than usual. I watched the Handmaiden for the new style she was trying to show me. The Echani girl's movements were lighter, more rapid and efficient than I'd been used to. In comparison, my own fighting seemed brutal and savage. Well it was, then. It was like I was a boma fighting a malraas. The Handmaiden was lightning fast, and I had to be lightning fast, too, to block her and retaliate. As I watched her and fought her, I changed my style the same way I changed my words when speaking to the girl in response to her seriousness and formality.

Once I found the rhythm, the footwork and form faded, and I started becoming more and more aware of the Handmaiden herself. Our battle shifted into more of a dance. At last, the Handmaiden called a halt.

She bowed. "You fought well, indeed," she said, pleased. "You have caught the principles of the style by watching and anticipating my movements. Perhaps—some other day, when you have thought about and used what you have learned today, I could show you more."

"But for now," I agreed, "It's been a long time since Telos. I need rest, and so do you."

I stooped for my clothes, but the Handmaiden stopped me. "Before you go—there is something I must know. Why did you go back—face trial?"

A quality in her voice—some vulnerability, some curiosity—made me release my clothes and stand up straight. I felt that as I answered this I should leave my defenses down and my stance open before the girl, so she could read the truth of what I said in her own way. "I respected the Council too much to deny them an explanation for what I did," I told her. "Or to attack them. And maybe—maybe I needed to hear their accusations, and answer them."

"I see," the girl replied after a short pause. "It was always something I was curious about—to walk to one's own sentence willingly. It is a brave thing."

I retrieved my clothes only after she had looked away. "Well," I said, "I'll leave you now. Try to sleep. If you need anything, come find me." I finished pulling on my pants and took my boots in my hand. I opened the door, but before I left, I called back over my shoulder, "Thanks for my training—Handmaiden."

There was no more avoiding Kreia, Aithne. When I walked into the dormitory, she was waiting, still fuming. She spoke at once. "How many more do we intend to gather to us? This ship is not the galaxy—there is only so much room."

I sat down on a bed, dropping my boots down beside me. "This ship is not the galaxy, but half the galaxy is after this ship. As many as are crazy enough to help us will find they're welcome here."

"Then prepare for an army, I think," Kreia snapped. "For it seems many more will come in time. They will follow you because you are a leader. Their kind always need such, even when the figure deserves no such obedience."

"Look, whatever Bao-Dur might say, I'm no general," I argued. "Not anymore. I'm not anybody's commander. What makes you think the others obey me? It seems to me they're just helping out. I don't know why, but—"

Kreia interrupted, impatient. "I am not so blind. I see what they see, hear their voices when they speak to you, and notice the change when they speak to others."

The heat in her voice gave me pause. I peered at her, trying to see beneath her hood. "You're really upset about this, aren't you? Kreia, why are you angry?"

Kreia suddenly calmed. She got up from the floor, and sat on the bunk opposite me. She looked very small, very broken. "I know many things, and I know what I am not," she said. "I am no leader. I speak with a voice that will never move others. I speak with a passion that goes unheard." She continued in a more characteristic, lecturing tone. "They obey you because you are a leader, and perhaps something more. Have you noticed what has been happening? Have you felt it in them?"

I shifted. "I've noticed something," I was forced to admit. "Bao-Dur gave up Telos to come with me. I'm not sure the Handmaiden really was given leave to come by Atris—or else why would she have hidden? Atris would've just commanded me to bring her along. Then there's Atton," I told her. "He's…_different_ than when we met. Not so much in what he says—but _how_ he says it is changing. More so every day."

Kreia's lip curled contemptuously. "The fool dances in your shadow for your favor," she sneered.

I was up off the bunk before I knew I'd moved. "Shut up! Don't talk about it that way!" I cried. "I wish—I don't know why he just won't go. I've given him the chance twice already! There's nothing for him here. I can't—I can't give him what he wants from me, and all he's likely to come by is a hell of a lot of trouble that's got nothing to do with him!"

I turned to Kreia for help, but the old woman was like a statue. "You are disturbed upon the fool's account," she said coldly. "Your feelings betray you, Jedi. Your influence over Atton is great, indeed; do not allow him the same power over you. But he is not the only one. The servant of Atris worships you. The alien obeys you. Even within the machines, there are echoes. Watch them carefully, see their patterns, and recognize the strength in it. Influence can be a weapon, one that you may need before your journey is over."

"No," I said flatly. "They're helping me, and I appreciate it. I'd like to call them friends. They're not tools."

Kreia's lip curled again. "I care not which word you use, so long as you make use of that you forge. That was Revan's way, I believe. It was a strength."

I deliberately sat down on my bunk again. "What do you mean?"

"Have you never asked yourself how Revan took the Republic and Jedi beneath her, how she made them hers?"

"I don't have to ask myself. She spoke and we listened. I remember her presence, and how her conviction carried me, and all of us."

"Ah, but to make officers turn on their own people, to bomb innocent worlds to make pacts…strong influence, indeed," Kreia argued. "And where did these Sith teachings come from? And why did Revan embrace them so strongly? So many questions, yet the answers are few."

"She went to Korriban," I said, puzzled. "Teachings of the Sith came from there, right?"

"Oh, did they?" Kreia asked. "No, Revan met no Sith empire, yet she learned their teachings. Many have mistaken the soldiers beneath Revan, the machines that were constructed, to be the 'Sith.' They are wrong—the Sith is a belief. And what Revan formed was not an empire, but something else—yet how she did it was curious. And I suspect the answer to that question is tied to another—how was Revan able to corrupt so many, so quickly?"

* * *

_ "Revan formed an army, and her army was corrupted the same way she was," Aithne snapped impatiently. "Only those with a higher allegiance than victory escape the taint that it brings. The Mandalorians didn't have a higher allegiance, neither did I, and neither did the majority of the Fleet, after a while. Or they had an allegiance to me, which was just as bad. I'm quicker, better at adapting into what's needed at any given time than just about anyone, and once upon a time I thought that was all I needed to lead. And they followed me."_

_ "War—the destruction that it leaves behind in the Force makes a mark. It amplified the effects your choices made on you, and the susceptibility of the Fleet to your influence," Darden said. "No one lights up the Force like you do," she repeated. "It's like a star, like a supergiant. You pulled us all into your gravity. Still do."_

_ "There was some scheming," Aithne said. "I have flashes of memory, and I've done some research. But what Kreia said, what she implied- I think she thought I intended something different than I did."_

_ "That became fairly apparent," Darden said. "I mean, I suspected when we met the Handmaiden that Kreia had a special interest in you. This conversation confirmed it, and later I realized the old woman practically idolized you—but she also thought the Jedi ruined you, instead of resetting you, and that you had a vision you never carried far enough. I tried to ask her more that night, but she wouldn't tell me."_

* * *

I stood, and started taking off my armor. I pulled my long gray tunic from my pack, and pulled it on. I lay back on my bunk. "I guess," I said, staring at the ceiling. "Right now I'm more interested in the answers on this ship. Kreia, what's your problem with the Handmaiden?"

"I have neither the time nor the patience to list my countless problems with the servant of Atris," Kreia replied shortly.

I turned over so my back was to the old woman. "Then don't," I said. "But she's offered to help us, so it's the same story it was with Atton. I'll settle for a lack of open hostility. We all have to work together."

"Do you think to turn her from Atris' will?" Kreia demanded, so insistently that I turned to face her again. "If so, I hope your arrogance will prove true in time. But I will abide her presence. She may have her uses."

"Of course, you would have me view her as a _tool_," I snapped. "But why do you want to use her?"

"Because Atris is a threat," Kreia answered, still sitting ramrod straight on her bunk, and glaring at me again now. "As much as she would try to use us against you, so may we use her servants against her. Do not see every enemy—see them instead as an ally, whether they realize it or not. This situation may yet work to our advantage."

I groaned. "Kreia, don't worry, okay? I'm not just sitting back and letting her spy for Atris—if she is, and like I said, I have my doubts. I'm watching her, just like I'm watching all of you."

"That is the most to be done until events unfold," Kreia admitted. "As I am sure they will, in time."

"Why are you so sure Atris is a threat?" I asked her. "She's angry and afraid and deluded, but a threat? Do you know her?"

Kreia leaned back against the wall, so her face was still more shadowed by her hood. "Atris herself is not as familiar to me as perhaps she should be. Yet I feel I know her, yes."

"How so?"

"Because Atris' path is one I walked long ago, and it is a chapter of my life that has been read and closed. She has taken the first steps, I think—we shall see," she murmured. "You say you felt it—the righteous anger, the spoken judgments, the lack of forgiveness."

It sounded like Kreia was implying Atris was falling to the Dark Side. "You went through all that?" I asked her.

"I was a historian once," Kreia told me. "Gathering the relics of the Jedi, learning the ancient mysteries. Always, there were more questions. One quickly learns that the Jedi code does not give all the answers. If you are to truly understand, then you will need the contrast, not adherence to a single idea. That is why Atris and the others blamed me, sentenced me. They believed me responsible for Revan's fall."

I sat bolt upright again. "You! Were you the one they spoke of in the holo of my trial? Did you train Revan?" I demanded.

"You have already asked much," Kreia said. "I do not wish to speak of this any longer."

But for once, Kreia had said too much. Renewed suspicion hummed through me like a vibroblade. I had been almost ready to fall asleep, but now I felt again that the old woman across from me, my teacher, was perhaps an enemy. "Fine, then answer me this, instead," I insisted. "If Atris and the Council cast you out, then how come she didn't mention you on Telos? How come she didn't speak to you, too, or warn me? How come she didn't think about you twice?"

"Ignorance," hissed Kreia. "And perhaps she does not remember, or care. It is of no consequence to me."

I stood. "You're lying to me, Kreia." I could sense the wall between us, hiding her true thoughts.

"Am I?" Kreia asked lazily. "Then perhaps you should know. There are techniques in the Force where one can cloud the memory of others, make their presence so small as to be unnoticed. On Telos—on the other worlds where we shall find these Jedi—there is much life and death, and sensing such things is difficult. As I said, it is of no consequence to me—or them."

"No," I said, thinking hard. "If you're using this technique it means you want to hide, so it follows that it is of some consequence to you whether you are seen. Or perhaps—seen traveling with me? You aren't using this technique on me, though."

Her mouth quirked. "If I did, you would never know, so my words only carry as much worth as you believe them to. But perhaps you will understand this—perhaps it is important to me that you see me and my actions, uncloaked. It is important that your judgments, whether they be good or bad, stem from seeing me as I truly am."

"Oh, from the wealth of information you're giving me," I said acidly. I stared down at Kreia. "Would you hear my judgment, then?"

The old woman waited.

"I think you're hiding something from me," I told her. "I think you have an agenda—that you've had an agenda since you rescued me for whatever reason in whatever manner from that HK-50 unit on the _Harbinger_. I think you don't want Atris, or the other Jedi we're going to find, to know that you're traveling with me—not because you're ashamed of what you've done or afraid to encounter them again, but because you cannot risk what they might tell me about you." I paused, and looked down at Kreia's handless wrist. "I think you care about me," I admitted. "But I also know that the one and only time I've completely trusted and believed you is when you implied you had been a Sith—and a powerful one."

"And this is what you think?" Kreia said after I finished. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. It sounded like dry grass crunching underfoot, and it made me shiver. "You are learning quickly, indeed. Distrust is an effective shield and should be carried always."

I started pacing. "Tell me of the Sith hunting us. I know you know," I commanded.

"I know of them, yes," Kreia agreed, "And how much like beasts they have become. Combined, united against the Jedi, they command legions of Sith. But above these legions, there are three who must be stopped—as long as any one of them lives, then we—and all life—are doomed."

She paused. "One bathes in pain, feeds on it for sustenance. The other has ceased being a living being, so consumed by hunger that he has forgotten his own flesh. And the last is a creature of betrayals, for without such things, there is no hope."

I contemplated Kreia's words, and looked at her stump again. "The one that bathes in pain did that to you, didn't he? We met him on Peragus."

"Sion," Kreia said. "Yes. Of pain, he has learned much. Of knowledge, of teaching, he knows nothing. Like the others, he was spawned by the horrors of the Mandalorian Wars. He exists solely to spread his pain to all Jedi, everywhere."

"And what do the others live for?" I asked. "The one consumed by hunger?"

"Silence!" Kreia hissed. "The less said of that one, the better—even a stray thought may draw him, and it is possible that he cannot be defeated. He is one who has learned the greatest of the Sith teachings—and it enslaved him. Until you are ready, we must not seek him out."

"Fine," I said shortly. "But the third—the traitor?"

Kreia was silent for a long moment. "Even now she is difficult to see," she said at last. "She must remain hidden for now until the time is right—if not, then all our efforts will be for nothing. In this, you must trust me. If she is exposed too soon, then this war will be over before it has begun."

Kreia could never resist testing me. It was the teacher in her, as well as that part of her that always sought a challenge. I had no idea then what her eventual plan would be, of what her ultimate motivations were, but the old woman had said too much for me to continue on under the assumption that my suspicions of her were mostly groundless, symptomatic only of a decade alone and chronic paranoia. No, that night Kreia clued me in that if she was my teacher, she might be teaching me in the Sith tradition, leading me down dangerous paths, preparing me for an eventual confrontation.

I guessed that night that I might be able to name the third Sith Lord, the one that did not seek to consume, did not seek to spread pain, but rather worked in the shadow, through betrayal. It was like ice in my veins, the suspicion, but it made sense of what had happened thus far.

Kreia sought me out. She protected me from Sion. She had implied that she had been cast out by the Sith as she had been by the Jedi. I guessed then, and she later confirmed that she sought revenge on those Sith through me. I guessed then that she wanted to get back at her ungrateful apprentices, those Lords of Hunger and Pain, that she sought to use me as a weapon against them even as she urged me to use our companions in the same way.

I turned on my heel. "I'll sleep in the med bay again," I told Kreia. I left.

I considered killing her that night, Aithne. I knew that if she was still a Sith, if she was a traitor, I couldn't rely that the ending she envisioned for our quest would be one that I would want. But I was also certain that she wanted the other Sith Lords dead, and confident Kreia _hadn't_ been lying when she said they wanted the death of the Jedi. I figured I could use her knowledge to find the Sith Lords and learn how they might be defeated. I figured I could learn everything Kreia had to teach me, and from her teachings, learn of the woman behind the words, and if the very real pain I'd felt when her hand had been severed meant I really was bound life-to-life with her, or not.

I considered killing Kreia that night, but I evaluated the current position, and judged it was more beneficial to keep her alive, despite the risk, and be ready when she turned on me. The only thing was, when it played out, it played out just like the Peragian mining tunnels.

* * *

_"Where you got so focused on your objective that you failed to take stock of your environment," Aithne recalled. "Yeah, I can imagine how it might've played out. You knew she might betray you, but you just thought you, right? You got focused on the Sith Lords and how she could help you come at them, or how she might come at you with them, and you didn't keep in mind what the objective of the Sith Lords was—that they wanted to kill the Jedi, and you were looking for the Jedi."_

_ Darden's eyes glistened. "You see that right away. What kind of idiot was I?"_

_ "You're a tactician," Aithne shrugged. "I'm a strategist. I see the long game. You're more suited to the short. Kreia—I get the feeling almost anyone would've been out of their depth."_

_ "In the end, she might've saved me," Darden admitted quietly. "She did kill the Old Order—well, those that the Jedi Civil War and the others had left behind. But they weren't—that is, I might be as good as dead and the Republic might be in ruins if she hadn't killed them. You'll have to tell me, when we get there."_

_ Aithne drummed her fingers on the top of her thigh. "I can't remember her," she confessed. "Though I could swear I've been having nightmares about her for years. Her and the others. Pain…hunger…"Aithne pressed her temples with her palms, and grimaced._

_ "Don't try too hard," Darden said quietly. "It's over now. If you knew about Sion and Nihilus—and Kreia—and the threats they posed at one point, if part of the reason you left was to look for them, they're gone."_

_ "I don't know what I knew. I kept sensing this hole in the Force, like a maw, and I couldn't get the visions about monsters that feed on things like that out of my head, couldn't shake the feeling that someone was out to make places like that, to take what I did so much further, past the Dark Side, past the Force, into nothingness, abominable oblivion…I probably sound absolutely crazy, don't I?" Aithne said, laughing a little. "Like I'm strung out on spice."_

_ Darden stared. "No, actually," she managed. "But if you didn't know where to look or what to do, if all you had were sketchy memory-visions and rumor, patchy at best, you couldn't have done anything."_

_ Aithne frowned. "No. But you—you're different, aren't you? You can…" she trailed off._

_ "I'm what?"_

_ Aithne sighed. "I don't know yet. I can't quite get it. You don't lie, but you're…elusive, for all that. I hear your words, and I see you there, but I still can't sense you. I trust you, but through the Force…it's like looking into a muddy pond, or a warped mirror. But I connect with you, too. Strongly. You have a knack for making allies. Bonding."_

_ Darden laughed. "My one true talent. I should've left the Jedi and gone into diplomacy."_

_ "It's more than that, though," Aithne continued. "We were friends at a time when I was as much as a utilitarian as your Kreia could want. You made me like you, and you're doing it again now. You treat us like friends, and we become friends. Like with the Handmaiden, but you did it with Atton, too. But you actually _change_, become what's needed to relate." Aithne was a little troubled. She shifted._

_ Darden looked pensive. "To an extent," she admitted. "But it's more like I see what language a person speaks and speak it with them."_

_ "No, you don't. I haven't heard you speak or talk about speaking anything but Basic. You're lazy that way," Aithne said, intentionally misunderstanding. Her eyes danced, and Darden remembered stories she had heard about how Aithne deflected tension like this. She decided to play along._

_ "Not literally," Darden laughed. "Idiot. Who has the time?"_

_ "I do," Aithne said virtuously._

_ Darden gestured rudely, and Aithne laughed. "I understand different languages, and that's usually enough. Nine times out of ten, and it's not what I meant," Darden said._

_ "No, I know what you meant. Tech with Bao-Dur. Combat and tradition with the Echani girl. War stories with me."_

_ Darden frowned. "When you put it like that, it sounds like a mask, but it's more like a relational point." She waved a hand at the weaponry pieces scattered around her. "I can relate to people, yeah, but in actuality I'm more of a techie introvert like Bao-Dur, and for ten years it's how I stayed sane and made a living during my exile. And with the Handmaiden—I was very like her as a Padawan. Intense, curious, _way_ too serious—and I always connected better to the Force in combat than at rest." She chucked, a little self-conscious._

_ "You find yourself in others, and you forge bonds," Aithne summed up. "The strongest I've ever seen. I feel that, if I can't get anything else. If Kreia was lying about your bond, it wasn't a huge exaggeration. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing for you yet, but I have a hunch it made you better qualified to deal with your Sith than I was. So tell me how you dealt with them." _

_ Darden obligingly started the story again. "So we were flying through hyperspace, right? Time passed slowly. It was really boring most of the time, like it's been this last year, looking for you." She gave Aithne a meaningful look. Aithne gave a little finger wave._

_ "Yeah, I said sorry already."_

_ Darden shrugged. "I cheered myself up remembering things would be a lot more exciting than I wanted them to be when we landed on Onderon, and like as not, dozens of people dropped out of the sky to try and kill me. Still, it was a relief when Atton told me one morning that we'd be coming out of hyperspace into the Onderon system that afternoon. I went to tell the others…_

* * *

**Coming 5/26: Darden tells how, aiming for Onderon, she ended up on Dxun instead, and explains how her first meeting with a succession of Aithne's old friends and allies came about. **

**And 5/29: Darden and Aithne talk Mandalorians and lightsabers as Darden relates struggles on Dxun and run-ins with Sith and bounty hunters. **


	14. XII

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

XII.

Warring for Mandalorians

_"The Handmaiden rarely left the cargo hold Atton had assigned to her. She was always training, always seeking to improve. She said she was training her reflexes so she could confront danger, but I thought that she trained so hard in the hopes that when she returned to Telos, her dedication and prowess would recommend her to her half-sisters, and maybe lose her the disgrace of being called the last among them. In any case, she was there when I came looking._

She always insisted on training and sparring in her underwear. I opened the door only to see, once again, far more of the girl than I really wanted to. "Look, do you think you could put some clothes on?" I asked her.

"Oh—greetings, Exile," the girl said. She paused her training, and bowed. "I fail to understand the problem. I know the coreward systems have customs concerning…modesty, but when training, such customs are not practical or efficient."

"I disagree," I said. "Look, we're landing on Onderon in a matter of hours. Because you're with me, we're likely to be attacked by someone at some point after we get off the ship. When that happens, you're not going to have time to take off your clothes and unencumber yourself. If you don't train with clothes on, you're crippling yourself."

The Handmaiden contemplated this for a moment. "I can see no fault in your reasoning," she agreed finally. "I do have bulkier clothes." She went over to the pack she kept by her cot, but instead of pulling out her Echani tunic and pants—the uniform she had worn serving Atris—she pulled out gray robes not unlike the ones I myself had tucked away in the bottom of my pack. She pulled them on, and as she did, a little color came into her pale, pale cheeks, as it never did when she was almost naked. When she was finished, she brushed the robes with her hands and swallowed. "Will these do?" she asked shyly.

"Those—those are Jedi robes," I said stupidly.

She turned away a little. "They suffice for training purposes. They belonged to my mother."

This would be the mother that wasn't her father's wife and the mother of her half-sisters, then, I thought. "I see. Who was your mother?"

"She was the one my father followed to war—she was a Jedi," the girl explained. "These are her robes. I have not worn them since they came into my possession. They are the only thing of her that I possess."

I calculated in my head. If the war the girl spoke of was the Mandalorian Wars—why, she might be even younger than she looked. It was very possible that the Handmaiden was not yet twenty. "Do you miss her?" I asked.

"I never knew her," the Handmaiden said. "There is no absence of presence when there is nothing to begin with. I miss only that I never knew her at all. And what it was about her that caused my father to follow her to war."

It was interesting to me that the Handmaiden was thinking of her mother now, that she had brought her robes along and was wearing them. If her mother had been a Jedi that had gone to war, I knew it might explain some of the girl's reluctance to entirely believe Atris' stories about me, despite her allegiance to Atris. I wondered if the girl identified with me in any way, or was looking to. But I figured that the Handmaiden had to work through her thoughts on her own. All I could do was offer the girl more material to work with.

"We've got a few hours before we come out of hyperspace," I said. "Would you like to spar? With clothes, if you please. Have to keep ready for attacks off-ship."

"I shall honor your request," the Handmaiden agreed.

We fought. I was starting to get a sense for the _Handmaiden_'s style, if not quite yet the Echani style the girl was trying to communicate. The Handmaiden was as direct and powerful in combat as she was in conversation. Her blows and kicks had amazing force and conviction behind them. They were beautiful in their simplicity and perfect execution, if not incredibly original. Also, by now the Handmaiden was starting to get to know me. She moved almost before I struck to counteract blows. We fought for perhaps a quarter of an hour before the Echani girl called a halt.

"You do well," she told me, "But I do not think you are ready for further instruction. Each movement of our arts demands some time to use the art in battle, or to examine how it may best be used in battle."

"You're amazing," I told her, panting a little. "It's like you're starting to know what I'm going to do before I do it."

She was pleased. "It is the way of the Echani to be able to read their opponents," she explained. "To know where an opponent is going to strike before it connects, anticipate it, and then strike against them. Echani battles are fought several minutes in advance—in many ways it is much like the game of dejarik played in the core systems. The most advanced among the Echani are able to predict the course of battles by months, and the most revered are said to be able to predict the paths of wars. Only Revan ever demonstrated such skill in war. And even as she slaughtered us, the Echani still respected her."

I knew that with the enemies I was up against, it might be useful to have that kind of read on my opponents. "Can you teach me how to think ahead like that?" I asked the Handmaiden. "It could be useful."

"But—you are already doing it. Did you not know?"

"What?"

The girl lit up in admiration. "If you do not know you are doing it, then training will make you a dangerous opponent, indeed. Come—as we fight more, I will teach you. Do not think about predicting my movements—react instinctively."

Again she set at me. I reacted like she told me. I found as I fought the Echani girl that I didn't have to think about where to move to counter. I _knew_, because I knew the Handmaiden, or was beginning to. When the Handmaiden started using more complex movements, more powerful strikes, I discovered that I had known the girl would do this. It was a mental dance as much as a physical one, and for a moment I understood how the girl saw art in this.

Finally the girl called a halt again, all but beaming. "You are doing better," she praised me. "At first, I was afraid that your awareness of your own ability might ruin it, but that is not the case."

"No—what you call prediction I call knowing my opponent—it's easier than I thought."

"You learn quickly," the girl said. "Perhaps it is your connection to the Force that allows such things, but I do not think so. You fight as an Echani warrior fights—always in the future."

I ruffled back my hair out of my sweating face. "I'm going to hit the fresher," I told her. "Thanks for the lesson. It's always fun fighting with you."

After showering and redressing in my armor, I went around to Kreia and Bao-Dur and informed them as well of our imminent arrival on Onderon. Then I went up to the cockpit.

You know about life on the _Ebon Hawk_, Aithne. There are things that just have to be done. The decks have to be swept and mopped. The food trays have to be washed, and the synthesizer and fresher have to be cleaned. At that point in time, we were still repairing what the droids on Peragus hadn't, so there was that to be done, as well. But I had duties to Kreia as a student, too. Though I thought she was probably a Sith Lord trying to shape me in her image and use me as a tool against other Sith Lords, there were still things to be learned from her. Every day I allocated time to sit with her. Sometimes we meditated—felt the ship around us and the galaxy around it, and how all of it was permeated with the Force. Sometimes Kreia asked me questions. She'd pose these moral hypotheticals and ask me to answer. She was hardly ever satisfied with my replies. She usually found that my sense of responsibility to and for others was a weakness. Sometimes, though, she'd say I demonstrated extraordinary conviction. She liked it, too, when I could show her that I thought on multiple levels, especially if several of them were utilitarian. On those days, sometimes I got away without a lecture. In addition to my daily chores and learning from Kreia, I talked to the Handmaiden daily. I sparred with her, got to know her. The girl wanted to understand the Force so badly, and I thought that it was important that the clear-eyed, serious-minded Echani Handmaiden realize that Atris had misrepresented me.

It didn't stop the boredom, of course, spending so much time doing self-imposed or necessary chores, no matter who it was with. But it did keep me busy. I still had leisure time, though. On the journey from Peragus, and for the first three or four days of this latest journey from Telos, I'd spent a lot of my leisure time tinkering with T3-M4 or bent over the workbench. Or working on the HK unit in the storage area. But I'd found that for the past four or five days I'd been gravitating more and more toward the cockpit.

I didn't really know why at first. Atton still stared and made inappropriate comments that made me want to slap him. He won two out of every three pazaak games we played, because he had an infernal talent for bluffing me into risking it when I shouldn't. But it was different with him than the rest of my crew. Kreia was my teacher at times, Aithne, and the rest of the time she was my enemy. The Handmaiden asked so many questions, was so very sheltered, that for the most part when I spent time with her I felt like a teacher myself, until I remembered the girl might be spying. I'd tried to breach the formal barrier between Bao-Dur and I. I enjoyed his sense of humor and liked poking about problems with him. But he still insisted upon calling me 'General.' All the time. He was my soldier, even after ten years, and the most I'd been able to achieve with him was a sort of amiable boss/valued employee relationship.

By the last day on that first trip, I was starting to get that annoying as Atton could be, alone among the crew he was my friend, and purely my friend. I could be entirely myself around him, even if the 'myself' I happened to be that day was awkward, terse, or stressed. He took it all in stride. It was a breath of fresh air. So toward the end of the Telos-Onderon trip, when I got a moment and I didn't absolutely have to be alone, I headed to the cockpit. Sometimes we'd play pazaak. Sometimes we'd talk—never about anything serious, never about history—just talk. Sometimes we'd just sit. To tell the truth, a friend that you can be comfortably quiet with is an incredible gift.

So yeah, I headed to the cockpit and swung up into my seat there after telling everyone else about the upcoming landing. "We ought to be exiting the lanes in an hour," Atton said. He looked over, saw I was wearing my armor instead of the mining uniform or the gray suit, and frowned. "You looking for trouble?"

"I don't know," I told him. "I have a weird feeling. I can't stop thinking about the trouble on Onderon."

"How they want to secede from the Republic?"

"They're _arguing_ over whether or not to secede from the Republic," I corrected him. "So far they haven't made up their minds yet. But the ill feeling there is hiking up prices for their flora and fauna and causing troubles for the Ithorians that want to use them to rebuild Telos. From what I can tell, their queen's still loyal. But the arguments are fierce. I heard a few from Onderonian travelers on Citadel."

"And you're hoping the arguing doesn't turn into fighting while we're there," Atton summarized.

"Last Jedi in the galaxy is a power piece if you're having a fight over how to govern your planet," I said. "We saw that much on Telos. And then there'll be the local Exchange—and if we stay too long there might be the Sith. Just—the safest place for me is in hyperspace. So enjoy the hour. I wouldn't count on the boredom lasting long."

"Gotcha," Atton said.

Time passed. By and by, Kreia came up to join us. At the end of the hour, Atton pulled out of the lanes and straight into a mess of ships. He reacted immediately, pulling the _Hawk_ around into open airspace. Atton, Kreia, and I stared. There were squadrons and squadrons of ships. Most of them were old Onderonian military—Republic ships from the Mandalorian Wars. But there were also many, many freighters and passenger ships parked up here, just waiting, like an asteroid field around the planet.

"Well," Atton said, looking over at me. "This is Onderon. It looks like there's a long line to get into the Iziz Starport."

"Something feels wrong here," Kreia remarked. "A great disturbance here in orbit…and again on the planet below."

"I hate it when I'm right," I muttered.

Something beeped on the console. "I'm receiving a message from some Colonel Tobin," Atton reported. "Patching it through…"

A hard-faced, dark-eyed man with a stubbly chin came up on the cockpit holo-display. "The _Ebon Hawk_," he said coldly. "I was told to expect your arrival. I don't know your business on Onderon, but it ends here."

"Threat! That's a threat!"

"Fighters!" Atton shouted, as the radar began beeping.

I punched the comm button. "Soldier, to the turrets!" I yelled. "You're needed!"

I darted to a turret myself, and heard Bao-Dur scramble in behind me.

"Who's attacking us?" he called.

"Some Colonel Tobin," I said. "Onderonian military. Don't talk; just shoot!"

Some things you don't forget, Aithne. Now, I had a couple of space fights during my exile, but nothing like that fight over Onderon. It wasn't even like a battle at first, more like an entire space army was after the _Ebon Hawk_. Fighters swarmed like so many disturbed hive insects. There were carrier vessels, too. I swiveled up and down and around instinctively, like I had early on in the Mandalorian Wars, almost fifteen years before. I fired and fired and fired that turret, and ignored the explosions of dying men and women.

Atton flew the _Ebon Hawk_ around and between our attackers, searching for a way behind the blockade. But there were just too many. The fighters kept coming, and I kept shooting until my thumbs tingled. The _Ebon Hawk_ shuddered once, twice, and an alarm blared out.

Atton's voice crackled over the comm. "We've taken some hits! I can outrun them and hide us on that jungle moon, or we can keep fighting! Your call, Darden!"

I shouted so he could hear me up the ladder and over the alarm. "Are you crazy? They have an army! Run!"

The ship swung around and I felt Atton hit the accelerator hard. I kept at the turret, covering our retreat. The alarm kept ringing, but we were going to get away. I looked out through the turret window, and saw that though it had begun as a ship-chase, it was turning into a battle around Onderon. The _Ebon Hawk'_s tagged Republic—well, was- and a number of Republic vessels in the Iziz Starport line had joined the fight. They were firing on Colonel Tobin's ships, better equipped for battle than the tiny _Ebon Hawk. _

I swore and climbed up out of the turret as I felt the ship hit the atmosphere of the jungle moon Atton had mentioned. Bao-Dur met me in the corridor.

"General," was all he said, but the question was implicit.

"Tensions are high between the Republic and Onderon," I explained quickly. "They were after us, but I think firing on us might've had consequences worse than getting stuck on a moon for a while." I smiled at the engineer wearily. "Thanks," I added. "You fought well. I'm glad I can trust you to come when I need you."

"Always," he said, and left, presumably to buckle up in the main hold for landing.

I returned to the cockpit. I passed Kreia and sat in the co-pilot's seat without a word, and strapped myself in. Atton was skimming the surface of the moon now, losing speed, and looking for a place to land. The surface of the world was a lush green jungle, pockmarked with innumerable clearings and rocky outcroppings where mountains rose up like tall, sharp, unforgiving teeth. Dxun, Aithne. Considering the way things had been going, I really shouldn't have been surprised.

Atton found an empty, but small clearing atop a mountain, surrounded by very thick jungle. He brought us down gently. When the struts touched the earth, I could swear the ship sighed in relief.

There was silence for a moment. Then Atton said, "You know, just once, I wish someone was glad to see us. But no, if it isn't weapons pointed at our heads, it's someone trying to blast us out of the sky."

As I looked out at the jungle, I couldn't find it in myself to have patience with Atton's complaint. I hate Dxun, Aithne. It's always raining, everywhere you turn something's trying to eat you, and the mountains are murder on the legs. But aside from that, it's impossible to be on Dxun without remembering the battle. More curtly than I meant to, I spoke, "Stick to facts, not wishes. It hurts less, and you get much more done. How badly is the ship damaged?"

Atton grimaced at the flashing red lights on the console. "We were able to get here, so it's not too serious," he said. "It's not a good idea to fly back up and into hyperspace, though. I'm shutting down all necessary systems until we make repairs." He pressed a few buttons, and the lights went down and the ship powered off. "It'll keep us from being a target," Atton added.

He pulled up the planetary ecological readout on the piloting computer. "It looks like we're on one of the moons of Onderon, not sure which one," he told me. "It's mostly jungle and mountain. I did pick up the remains of an old outpost near here. Maybe that's why there's all these clearings around—maybe they were once settlements."

"There were no settlements here," Kreia told him. "Those clearings were most likely once craters—or crash sites."

"Crash sites—"Atton started. Then he got it. Everyone's heard about Dxun. He turned in his chair to look at me.

"This is Dxun," Kreia continued. "Where the Mandalorians began their crusade against the Republic. The remains of whatever outposts you detected here are military ones. We should be careful."

Atton looked back at the readouts. "This is where the Mandalorian Wars started?" he asked. "This doesn't look like much of a battlefield."

I wondered what he expected a battlefield to look like. Battles are fought in all environments, at all times. The worst battlefields are ones like Dxun, where the environment itself becomes an enemy. I heard myself laugh, but the laugh hurt my throat.

"Much is buried here," Kreia cut in, stepping between me and Atton. "And there is much that should remain buried."

I knew I couldn't afford to get caught up in a stroll down memory lane. I forced myself to think. "Okay. So. We have a diagnosis on the ship. We know where we are. We need to get to Onderon. If Master Kavar's in the system, that's where he'll be."

"Until the ship is repaired, we're not going anywhere, sweetheart," Atton said. "Unless you can find another route to Onderon, we should sit tight."

Kreia looked out the window. "There may be means to get to Onderon by another route," she murmured. "The Force has guided us for a reason. We should explore our surroundings. There is…something here."

Atton was still looking at the ecological readouts. "Something? Oh, there's something here all right. Predators. Not small flipdarters, but big, mean, nasty predators."

"Nevertheless, we should explore our surroundings," Kreia insisted. "That nearby outpost would be as good a place as any to begin."

I didn't really want to go on an excursion across Dxun. In fact, I very much wanted _not_ to go on an excursion across Dxun. But I had a feeling Kreia wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed. "If you think we'll find anything there, Kreia, we might as well go," I said, standing.

Atton stood, looking past Kreia at me. "Darden—I have to make repairs," he said. I didn't know what he was getting at. It was obvious that he'd have to stay.

"Yeah, I know," I replied.

He kept staring at me. I wondered what I looked like, to give him such an odd expression. "If you go, be careful," he said after a long moment. "No telling what other ships were forced down in the battle."

"Yeah," I said, and headed to the starboard dormitory to prepare for a hike.

Once there, I strapped on my vibroblade and holstered my blaster. I filled my pack with the standard survival supplies. I was returning to the cockpit to fetch Kreia when, changing my mind, I turned right. I knocked on the door to the cargo hold. The door opened immediately, and the Handmaiden came out. "What has happened?" she asked at once. "We were shot at. You summoned the Iridonian. There was a battle—"

"Yes. The Onderonian military shot at us. We ran, and now we're on Dxun," I explained. "Maybe you've heard of it. Nearly always raining. Thick jungle. Lots of nasty animals with enormous teeth and bad tempers. We're going to be here awhile. Atton's making repairs, but Kreia thinks there's something here, so we're exploring. If you want to put your training to the test, come with me."

The Handmaiden bowed. "It would be my honor, Exile." She vanished into the cargo hold and returned with a weapon unlike that which she had borne in Atris' service on Telos. It was not quite a double vibroblade, not quite a spear, but something thin and graceful in between. She caught me looking at it. "It was my father's," she said.

"Your mother's robes and your father's weapon," I remarked. "I guess you're ready for whatever's here, at least. Come on."

She followed me into the main hold. Bao-Dur was there, putting his own pack together. He stood when we entered. "General. You're going out into the jungle. I could help you, if you want."

"I thought you'd want to stay here and help Atton with repairs," I said.

"It started here," he told me. "I never came, but it's something—I think I need to see it."

His courage embarrassed me. "You're braver than I am," I muttered. "Come along if you want."

The Handmaiden was watching me. "It is good to face what has happened, Exile," she said, sounding puzzled. "A wound needs air to breathe in order to fully heal, does it not?"

"Yeah, but festering flesh and oozing pus is never fun, all the same," I answered her. "And I ought to know. Kreia!" I hollered aloud then. "If you're coming, let's go!"

It actually struck me as a bad idea, bringing Kreia along. If the two of us were lethally bonded, a malraas could leap out of a tree onto Kreia and kill us both at once. If Kreia was lying about the degree of our bond to manipulate me—well, it was bad enough that she'd be able to access my emotions about this place. Having Kreia witness and mock them would be worse. But Kreia had definitely sounded like she expected to be exploring Dxun with me.

She came out of the cockpit, and Atton followed her. From the other end of the ship, Teethree rolled out from the engine room. Kreia joined Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden behind me, and Teethree went over to Atton, facing us. "You two fix up the ship," I told them. "We'll be back."

"I'll try to keep you updated," Atton said.

"Do that. We'll have to deal with predators and whatever else is out there, but anybody looking for me is going to find you first, no matter how many systems you shut down," I warned him. "A ship's bigger than four people in a jungle. Keep the _Ebon Hawk_ locked down."

I didn't hang around for goodbyes. I wanted to find what Kreia was looking for and get it over with. I led the others down the ramp. It was raining. I plunged ahead into the deluge regardless. You can wait weeks for a sunny day on Dxun. The water plastered my hair down and trickled into my armor. The Handmaiden made a disgusted noise. "Keep as quiet as you can," I told her. "The jungle's crawling with—"Two cannoks barreled out of the brush and I shot them, while Bao-Dur gutted another one and the Handmaiden a fourth. "Those," I finished. "And worse. Cannoks and boma keep to the ground, but you'll want to keep an eye out in the trees for malraas."

"I understand," the Handmaiden murmured quietly. "Lead on."

My com-link beeped, and a visual appeared on the display. Atton had sent me a map of the surrounding area as detected by the _Ebon Hawk_, and a path had even been highlighted as the best route toward the outpost. It would cut down the expedition time significantly, and I appreciated the thought. "We head north," I told the others.

It was actually better than I had anticipated, for all that we were occasionally ambushed by groups of vicious beasts. With my blaster, Kreia's Force senses, and the Handmaiden's frankly phenomenal melee skills, the animals didn't pose much of a challenge. There's the bonus, too, that after you're already soaked to the skin, rain kind of stops annoying. The only really bad part was the wrecks. They were here and there, interspersed through the trees and in the middle of clearings.

Some of them were Mandalorian ships. Most were Republic. Sometimes I saw broken down droids, or white skeletons moss over which moss was starting to grow. I tried to ignore them, but every time I caught sight of one my stomach clenched, and I couldn't help but remember another day on Dxun, when explosions had echoed through the jungle, and the water dripping off the leaves of the trees had intermingled with blood. I didn't talk to my companions about it, but before a quarter of an hour had passed my jaw ached with how tightly I was gritting my teeth. I could tell the others saw, though—the Handmaiden was curious, Bao-Dur compassionate, and Kreia looked grim.

By one of the wrecks, maybe half an hour into the jungle, the com-link buzzed. I hit the display. "Hey—it's me," Atton said. "The space battle is still going on. The _Hawk_'s sensors just picked up a contact heading to the moon. Most of our ship's sensors are powered down, though, so that's about all I got. That ship may have landed nearby, though. Or it might be on the other side of the moon. So—just be ready for another friendly Onderon welcome."

"Thanks," I told him. "Be ready yourself. Over and out."

I wondered belatedly if I perhaps should have insisted Bao-Dur stay with the ship. Though Teethree had a lot of firepower for a utility droid, if an entire ship's crew found the _Ebon Hawk_, I didn't like the idea of just the little droid and Atton being there to meet them.

The Handmaiden caught my concern, probably something in my face or posture. "You are worried, Exile," she observed. "Does the ship's exposure concern you? Perhaps one of us should go back to strengthen the position in case of enemies."

I entertained the idea momentarily, then decided. "No. It'll be fine. We haven't seen a ship land, so it's probably not close by. If the ship isn't close by, they haven't already found the Ebon Hawk, and won't any time soon. Going back would just waste time, because I'm not having anybody in this jungle alone."

The Handmaiden regarded me. "As you wish," she said, but unconvinced, added after a pause, "Are you certain you would not do anything? Your stance—your expression—"

Kreia snorted. "She fears for the droid, and more, for the fool, servant of Atris." She added to me, "I have told you before: you weaken yourself with these ties to others."

"Yes," I replied coolly, walking on without looking at the old woman. "Unless it's my tie to you, and that's supposed to make me stronger, unless it kills us first. We'll attract the predators, talking like this."

Indeed, only a snarling overhead warned me in time. I brought up my vibrosword and the leaping malraas impaled itself on the blade. I used my foot to push the feline off, grateful for the rain that would wash the blood off my armor. I wiped my blade on a nearby undergrowth bush.

According to the map, we were supposed to turn up ahead, but I saw a column of smoke rising, not one hundred meters in front of us through the trees. I held up a hand and pointed, silently. The others stopped, and looked.

The com-link buzzed again. I hit it, irritated. "Yeah?" I whispered.

"The orbital fighting just ended," Atton reported. "That Colonel Tobin stirred up a mynock's nest when he took a shot at us. I'm still working on the repairs, and I have to take down some systems, including sensors. So you'll have to do without me for a while." He paused then, and his face on the display twitched. "I know, you're crushed," he said then, with a smile that looked somewhat forced.

I opened my mouth to answer, but he'd shut off the link.

Now, I could do very well without Atton. He was the one alone in the jungle in a big, targetable ship with only a droid for backup. I had the map he'd sent me, and my companions were very capable. But somehow, his last expression and sarcastic remark bothered me. And I found myself wishing, despite my ability to do without him, that he'd been able to hold off cutting communications for a while longer.

"Come on," I whispered to the others, glancing back at the column of smoke. "Something's crashed. Recently."

The crashed object turned out to be a ship, privately owned, not Republic or Onderonian. Three or four Duros were stirring from the wreckage. One of them spotted me, and brought up a fairly large blaster rifle with a smile.

"They're bounty hunters!" I yelled.

The next minute or so was fighting, but the Duros were injured and shaky from the space battle and the crash thereafter. When the firefight was over, I searched the bodies. I found a medal and a datapad on one. The medal indicated that the corpses had belonged to a Duros organization that called itself the Zhug 'family.' The datapad had a copy of the Exchange bounty listing on it. Aithne, the price Goto from Nar Shaddaa was offering for live Jedi was enough for someone to buy a small moon. The price beneath it in smaller type—the price for a dead Jedi—was much lower, but still big enough that I knew dozens of hunters would be out to collect. Beneath the general listing, however, these particular members of the Zhug family had had a few lines of type. Translated, it ran something like this.

KNOWN JEDI: DARDEN LEONA. HUMAN FEMALE, EARLY THIRTIES. SMALL STATURED, GREEN EYES, DARK HAIR. TRAVELING IN A REPUBLIC FREIGHTER KNOWN AS THE _EBON HAWK_. KNOWN TO BE TRAVELING WITH A HUMAN MALE CALLED BY THE NAME OF 'ATTON RAND,' EARLY THIRTIES. BLUE EYES, DARK HAIR. ALSO A HUMAN FEMALE KNOWN AS 'KREIA,' AGE UNKNOWN, APPEARANCE UNKNOWN. PRESUME ALL ARMED, AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. LAST SEEN: TELOS IV.

There followed the date of our departure from the Telos system. I guessed the Telosian satellites had tagged the _Ebon Hawk_'s ID codes on its way out. When those same codes had been recognized upon our entrance into the Onderon system, the Zhugs had headed straight for me. They obviously hadn't fared as well in the space battle, though, and had crashed here. The information they had they had probably obtained from the few Exchange guards or Czerka employees that had escaped the general purge. Either way, it wasn't good. I knew the information might be all over the galaxy.

"This might be the ship Atton detected," I said to the others. "But maybe not."

"Well, it's always fun when we don't know how many people are after us," Bao-Dur said.

"We're close to the outpost," I said. "Let's just go there, see what's to see, and get back to the ship. We can help Atton finish up repairs and find some way of sneaking onto Onderon."

I stood up from where I'd been kneeling by a dead Duros, and started walking again. I looked over at Kreia, and getting it, she quickened her pace slightly and joined me at the lead of the group. "They've tagged you with me," I told her in a low voice. "Atton, too. When we brought down the Exchange on Telos, the guards that got away must've blabbed."

"Next time you will not be so foolish as to leave potential enemies alive to plague you again," Kreia replied. "As to my identification, it does not matter. The bounty hunters will seek only to identify me—or the fool—in order to locate you."

"That doesn't make me much happier," I pointed out.

The Duros spaceship had fallen behind, and now we came into sight of an old Mandalorian cache. Beside it, there was an armored corpse. I would have passed it like the others, but Kreia stopped me, gripping my shoulder in her claw. "Stop!" she hissed. "That is not the skeletal remnant of a war long past. That is a recent kill. It appears that Dxun isn't as abandoned as we would be led to believe."

The Handmaiden went over to the body and knelt beside it. "The body has not been here these two days," she announced, after a cursory inspection.

Bao-Dur's face contorted as he got the significance. I felt anger and hate surge around him.

I was just bewildered. "Mandalorian. There are Mandalorians here. Why would they be here? Why would they come back?"

"The past has a curious attraction to us all," Kreia said. "Perhaps he came in a small shuttle to revisit old battlegrounds. Perhaps not. But let us press forward. You may find the answers you seek."

"If it is battle that awaits us, I am ready," the Handmaiden said. "These predators are no challenge, nor were the Duros bounty hunters."

I looked at my third companion, though, hesitant to proceed. "Bao-Dur, if we meet Mandalorians—will you be all right?" I asked him.

Bao-Dur's jaw was as clenched as mine had been earlier. His golden eyes had none of their usual warmth. "I'm not going to let you face them without me, General."

"That's not an answer. If we encounter them, we aren't just going to start shooting."

"I understand," he said. "The war is over. I will—I will control myself."

"See that you do," I warned him.

It was just a few hundred meters to go when I saw the campfire, set in front of the path to the outpost we were trying to reach. It didn't look like anyone was there, but I knew better. So I walked right up to the flames, drew my vibrosword, and plunged it into the wet earth before the fire.

Nine Mandalorians in full armor materialized around us. I recognized the make of the armor as belonging to clan Ordo. "We've got you surrounded," one said.

"Yeah. I know."

"I'm surprised you got this far," the same one said with something like grudging respect. He was wearing the decorations of a squadron leader. "The jungle doesn't usually let its prey go that easily. What are you doing here?"

"Us?" I retorted. "What are you doing here? The weather, the pests, the crash sites that represent failed battles, what _is_ it with Mandalorians and this moon?"

"We claimed this moon decades ago when we reforged ourselves after Exar Kun's defeat," the leader of the sentry group replied. "Some of us call it home. Why are you trespassing here?"

"It was unintentional, I assure you," I told him. "They were shooting at us in the battle—we landed to make repairs. My friends and I were just scouting out the lay of the land to see if anyone was going to sneak up on us and try to kill us." I gestured at the sentry group wryly. "The trouble with things like that is you usually find what you're looking for. Who are you, anyway? Clan Ordo?"

The Mandalorians began to mutter around us. "What do you know of Clan Ordo?" the leader demanded.

Mandalorians are a pretty diverse group. There are good ones, but there are an awful lot of thugs and bullies, too. I was unsure how these would react to my name and how I knew Mandalorians, so I said nothing.

"I am a Mandalorian warrior," the leader said finally. "This area you are scouting is our territory. I have orders to escort you to our camp—our leader wants to speak to you."

Bao-Dur radiated tension. His eyes blazed. I put a hand on his arm. And Kreia said, "This may prove of use to us. Let us hear his words and see if they have any value."

I looked up at the troop leader. "Take me to this leader the Mandalorians have found in their defeat," I told him.

The outpost Atton and Kreia had talked so much about was actually a fully functioning Mandalorian war camp, complete with old buildings, numerous barrels of supplies, and dozens and dozens of Mandalorians. I saw nearly fifty as the sentry leader led Bao-Dur, the Handmaiden, Kreia and I through the camp, and of course there were many more about. It had stopped raining for the meantime, though gray clouds still loomed darkly overhead with the promise of more bad weather. To the left and right there were many flags and banners. Those of Clan Ordo, yes, but also those of Mandalore. Seeing _that _banner made me very nervous. I saw a supplier. I saw a relay dish. I saw two or three different training groups.

"They have the appearance of an army," the Handmaiden whispered to me. "An army in training, despite their small numbers."

I could sense our guide listening. "Yes, but let's not talk about it now," I whispered back.

The sentry group leader led us into what looked like a communications room. The rust and general wear and tear of the place indicated it was at least twenty years old, and had seen better days. But the computers were up and running, humming with functionality. There were four different large screen displays at one end of the room, showing supply readouts, planetary information on Onderon, and several different communications from across the galaxy. Another Mandalorian was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, looking over all this information. He was armored like our guide, but better than him, too.

He turned, and I swallowed. The tall, powerful-looking Mandalorian wore the mask of Mandalore. It was a little disconcerting, to say the least. The last time I had seen that mask was at Malachor V on Mandalore the Ultimate, across the transmission before you defeated him. Bao-Dur recognized it, too, and swore in his own language.

The man folded his armored arms. "So. You're the intruder. Our sensors picked up your handiwork in space. I am Mandalore, leader of the Mandalorians."

"Mandalore was killed, ten years ago," I denied, quietly. "Revan claimed his mask and hid it to ensure the Mandalorians never rebuilt. So. Who are you really and how did you get that?"

I could feel his amusement through the Force. "You fought, did you? I think you'll understand if I don't answer your questions. The leader of the camp usually asks questions of intruders. He doesn't answer them. It was only a matter of time before the Mandalorians chose a new leader. And they chose me."

"The Mandalorians were disbanded."

"Scattered, perhaps, but we're still alive. Alive and rebuilding."

Standing across from the man brought back the old adrenaline, the old enmity in me, if not Bao-Dur's seething hatred. I never hated the Mandalorians, but they were a very real and dangerous enemy, and seeing them made me bold. "Is that what you call it?" I asked. "I'd bet there aren't more than a hundred of you in this camp. I've run into Mandalorians, over the years. I haven't met any that weren't much more than thugs since the war."

"Many Mandalorians have fallen from the path of honor and are now no more than common mercenaries," the man styling himself Mandalore (at least, to all the knowledge I had at that point in time) replied, and now a trace of irritation had crept into his heretofore amused voice. "But that is changing."

"From here. What are you doing here? What is this place?"

The man in the mask laughed then. "You really don't get the whole interrogation concept, do you? Who are you?"

I looked around. "This isn't an interrogation," I said at last. "My friends and I still have our weapons. You're wearing a scary mask, but you're alone in here, and I have three people with me. Sure, there's a whole camp of you outside, but right here, right now, you and me are on equal footing, as far as I can tell."

"That's not an answer."

"I don't get to know your name; you don't get to know mine."

He laughed again. "Fine, fine," he said. "You're brave, whoever you are. Stupid, but brave. All right, I'll play along. This used to be the heart of the Mandalorian war effort. From this complex we commanded an armada that had the Republic on the run. It didn't last."

"No," I agreed. Then, curious, I asked, "But—I've always wondered. Then and now. Why Dxun?"

"Mandalorians have a rapport with the jungle," he answered. "Every moment is a struggle here, all creatures gripped in a constant war for survival. The sole purpose of the weak is to feed the strong. We train here and learn the lessons of the jungle. The beasts also help us keep our edge."

I was unsure how to proceed. Like I said, there are good and bad Mandalorians, but I hadn't met any good ones since the war, and even then, they'd been the enemy. But the man who called himself Mandalore didn't seem like he hated me. In fact, he was being downright friendly, for a Mandalorian. "What do you want?" I asked. "You can't have asked me here to debate the philosophy of strength. And if you're really not intent on killing us, we should head back to our ship and help the pilot with repairs. We have to get to Onderon somehow, even if we have to fight our way through the blockade."

The mood shifted. Before, Mandalore had been amused, biding his time. Now, I sensed his interest sharpen. "Hmm. Your ship. That'd be the _Ebon Hawk_? It's not going to get through the blockade. But if you want transportation to Iziz, it so happens I have a small shuttle that's more than capable of running the Onderon military blockade. I make occasional trips to Iziz for information and supplies. I could give you a lift, but if you want to come with me you're going to have to prove your worth."

I stared at him, bewildered. It was apparent that it was the _Ebon Hawk_ that had caught Mandalore's interest. Because of the ship, Mandalore hadn't killed me, was offering to help. He knew the _Ebon Hawk_, knew what it could and couldn't do. But I didn't sense that he wanted to steal the ship. I relaxed a little, much less concerned that we'd all die in the camp. Behind me, Bao-Dur was almost vibrating with fear, anger and confusion. I couldn't guess Mandalore's game, what I had that he wanted, but it was clear I had something, nonetheless. "Why do I have to prove myself to you?" I asked him. "If you want to give me a ride, I can pay you for your trouble."

"I don't travel with anyone I'm not sure of," Mandalore answered. "You look capable, but Iziz can be a dangerous place. If you want to travel on my shuttle, I want to make sure you aren't going to be a liability."

I couldn't say the man didn't make sense. "Fine," I agreed. "I wouldn't, but I do actually need the transportation. It's crucial that I get to the planet's surface. How do you suggest I prove myself?"

He shrugged. "Figure it out yourself. Ask around, see if you can make yourself useful. Or do something that'll show what you're made of."

I crossed my arms. "You have something in mind. You might as well tell me."

Another wave of amusement. It seemed as though my rudeness and daring was rather making Mandalore like me than otherwise. "There is one thing," he admitted. "Before your ship landed we were preparing some demolition work. All the activity forced my men to stop before they finished. The charges need to be detonated before anybody comes to them. So all you'd have to do is flip a switch."

"If it's so easy, why not go back and do it yourself?" I challenged him.

"We want to keep a low profile," he explained. "So we've recalled all our patrols in the jungle. Setting off some high grade explosives isn't a textbook example of subtlety."

The man does have a knack for understatement, a certain turn of phrase that I couldn't help but appreciate, even then. "Well that's true. What would I be blowing up?"

"We were trying to uncover the entrance to a hidden cache of old Mandalorian equipment," he told me easily. "The explosives should be easy to find. Just get to it before the cannoks do."

"Urgh. Those are so annoying," I muttered. "Sure, whatever."

Mandalore extended his gauntleted hand, and we shook. "I'll let Kex know you check out," he said. "We've found more gear than we can use, so you can trade with him if you need some more supplies. Be careful in the jungle. Our patrols have stopped until the space traffic dies down. The challenging beasts have been cleared from the area, but what's left might still be too much for you."

"Yeah, I doubt it," I said, with a snort. I gave Mandalore an ironic wave and led my companions out. I wondered as I did, if Mandalore would be so willing to help me if he knew who I was, knew, that in the end, Bao-Dur and I had been Revan's best pieces in orchestrating the final, crushing defeat of the Mandalorians.

* * *

_ Aithne had been almost bouncing waiting for Darden to pause. She was beaming as brightly as a summer day on Dantooine. Darden couldn't help but laugh. The woman looked like a hyperactive teenager, grinning like that. "Give me a break," Darden chuckled. "I had no idea."_

_ "But you do now. Canderous! I'm glad he hung onto the mask. Darden—he's one of my very best friends. He saved the _Ebon Hawk_ and all my friends in the battle of the Star Forge. The most honorable man you'll ever meet, and not one at all to hold a grudge against those that have defeated him in battle. Much more likely to make friends. Force, if you'd told him your name, he probably would've taken you to Iziz in a heartbeat!"_

_ "Yes, but I didn't, and because I didn't, even though he knew, he was much more disposed to mess with my head," Darden said._

_ Aithne's eyes sparkled. "Well, that's Canderous for you. It's your own fault. Did you talk to him much? What happened? How is he?"_

_ Darden laughed again. "Slow down! He's fine. Just fine. I got to know him rather well, actually, and it's been my pleasure. I'll tell you all about it, but everything in its place."_

_ "You got to know him well? How'd Bao-Dur take it?" _

_ Darden grimaced. "Not well. The minute we left that communications blister he was expressing his dissatisfaction…_

* * *

**Coming 5/29:** **Darden and Aithne talk Mandalorians and lightsabers as Darden relates struggles on Dxun and run-ins with Sith and bounty hunters.**

**And 6/2: Darden tells Aithne of troubles on Onderon with political tension and hordes of bounty hunters. As Darden describes the happenings on Onderon, Aithne begins to feel hope for the Jedi, and to understand what purpose she might have, should she return to the Republic. **

**Please leave a review in the box at the bottom! Tell me what you think! **

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	15. XIII

**Disclaimer: If I claim this may I be struck down by a lightsaber.**

* * *

XIII.

A Light in the Darkness

_"We're helping these people?" he asked. "General—"_

"The war's not on anymore, Bao-Dur," I told him. "We need to get to Iziz. He'll take us."

"That man said he would rebuild the Mandalorians," the Handmaiden pointed out. "It would be wise to think about the ramifications of this course of action, Exile."

I stopped walking in the center of the camp, and turned to address Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden. Kreia looked on, evaluating. "Look around," I told Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden, keeping my voice low. "There are probably less than a hundred Mandalorians here—a tiny remnant of a single clan. These people aren't going to conquer the galaxy any time soon. But look at them."

I pointed out one group training, another group repairing things, a third unloading supplies off a speeder. "Have you seen the Mandalorians since the end of the war? Purposeless, or worse, thugs and bullies. These men and women think they're doing something honorable. Something good. They're working for something better than just a battle to fight. They think they're rebuilding their people. And because they're here, they're not tyrannizing underdogs in the slums on backwater worlds. Far be it from me to stop them and send them back to that."

"So helping them now is the lesser of two evils," Bao-Dur said, clearly still unhappy.

I honestly didn't think helping the Mandalorians on Dxun could be construed as an evil at all, but I supposed Bao-Dur might see it that way. "More or less. But I'm curious about this new Mandalore, too. He's being very helpful. I want to know why."

Kreia averted her face. Her mind was shut down like a safe. I looked at her.

**You know something, **I accused her telepathically. **You were the one that wanted to come here. You knew we'd find the guy.**

There was only silence over the link.

**Fine. But I'll be watching. Him—and you.**

"Well," said the Handmaiden, "If we are to aid these people, there is no time like the present."

I shunted aside my suspicion for the moment and focused on our tasks. "My thoughts exactly. Come on. Let's see what we can find out around here."

Mandalore's suggestion to look around for things that needed doing hadn't been intended to give me a hard time. Well, not a very hard time. Less than an hour circulating around the camp conversing with random Mandalorians uncovered multiple things that needed doing. The mechanic, Zuka, was relatively new to the job. He was having major troubles with the relay dish. Wires were broken, the telemetry computer was malfunctioning, and a rare part had been torn up and eaten by cannoks. Xarga, the training master in charge of new recruits, was missing one of his young warriors. The young man, Kumus, had been due back two days prior. Xarga wanted me to find the body and retrieve Kumus' gear.

There was also a battle circle where more experienced warriors trained through sparring. I sparred with three of them in hopes of proving myself in combat. I beat them all, but after that the sergeant of the battle circle got tired of my pretensions to Mandalorian training and sent me off about my business. He did say maybe I could fight some more later, but right then he wanted me to get lost.

So I did what I could do around camp to help Zuka. I repaired the broken wires on my own, but when I went to the telemetry computer, Bao-Dur, who had been watching my efforts in consternation all this time, finally caved. "Move over, General," he said. "I'll take care of it."

I didn't know whether his openness to help meant my speech earlier had had an impact, or just that he hated to see me take forever on a job that would take him two minutes, but either way, I appreciated his offer, and I said so. He fixed the telemetry computer in no time at all.

On our way out of the Mandalorian camp to blow up that cache Mandalore had sent us to find, and find Kumus' body, we were stopped by the patrol captain. The guy warned us about the jungle beasts the patrols weren't killing anymore, specifically a zakkeg that had been seen around the area. I promised we'd be careful and left, resolving to take the beast out. If the Mandalorians didn't think my friends and I could handle a zakkeg, killing it would be an excellent way to prove myself to Mandalore.

It was raining again when just outside the camp, we ran into a group of Mandalorians that were waiting for us. I recognized one of them as the first opponent I'd beaten in the battle circle, a Mandalorian kid named Davrel.

"You finally arrive, stranger," Davrel hailed me, loudly. He obviously wanted his friends to hear. "I seek to reclaim the honor that you stole from me. I challenge you here, outside the battle circle. This time we fight to the death!"

The challenge was pretty pathetic, Aithne, considering how easily I'd beaten him before. And we'd been fighting hand-to-hand then. "Your teachings claim there is no dishonor in losing to a worthy opponent," I reminded him. "I fought in the Wars, okay? I've defeated many Mandalorians before you. You haven't diminished, losing to me."

The kid hesitated. I saw him look to either side, at the warriors he'd brought with him. "You would deny my request? I want to fight here, in front of the other Mandalorians, to prove my worth. Do not shame me again."

I couldn't help but pity him, Aithne. He was young and passionate, and all he wanted was to be a warrior like the older members of his clan. He was like one of those kath hound puppies from Dantooine. I hadn't considered in my need to prove myself that Davrel had been trying to do the same when I'd defeated him. I'd come waltzing in and made him look like a fool. But that didn't change the fact that challenging me to a duel was a very bad idea for him.

"I beat you in the battle circle unarmed," I said. "And you and I both know it wasn't just a fluke."

His helmet drooped. He knew I wasn't lying.

"To challenge me here is to throw your life away to prove a point," I continued, "And that's a much bigger shame than the one you've suffered. It would shame me, too, to kill you like that. Look—I'm sorry I embarrassed you in the battle circle, Davrel. I didn't think about it. But there has to be something else you can do to prove yourself."

I sensed approval from the Mandalorian witnesses Davrel had brought. They didn't want him to fight me, either. "There are no wars to fight," Davrel said bitterly. "No great enemies to destroy. I wish this was a different age, where our armadas were a force to be feared."

I thought a moment. "The patrol captain told me about a zakkeg around here," I offered. "They're supposed to be a challenge even for a Mandalorian patrol."

"A zakkeg?" Davrel asked, looking up. "Those are the deadliest beasts in this part of the jungle. Patrols are right to be cautious about them. I'll do what I must to prove myself to the other Mandalorians, but fighting a zakkeg would be a short-lived honor."

"So would fighting me," I pointed out. "But if we took on the zakkeg together—"

Davrel glanced at the others for confirmation of my plan, and one of his companions nodded. I felt Davrel's relief, and even a little bit of gratitude. "Yes, I suppose that is…possible," he said to me. "We would both gain recognition from that battle. Your plan is acceptable to me," he decided suddenly. "Together we will destroy the zakkeg. I will meet you there."

Davrel ran out into the jungle. I hoped he didn't get killed before he found the zakkeg, and had the sense to wait for us when he had. But whatever happened, I knew I wouldn't be responsible for killing him now.

"Thank you, stranger," one of the Mandalorian witnesses said. "Davrel is young and inexperienced. We recognize the strength you displayed, defeating him in the battle circle. Kex and Tagren, also. It is no dishonor to have fought you. We told him this. But he would not listen. Go well."

I bowed in the Mandalorian style. As we walked away from the group and into the jungle again, the Handmaiden observed, "These Mandalorians are not like those I heard tale of. They are proud, and their stance and movements display strength and training. But they are not—are not evil, are they? I am confused."

"The Mandalorians' central ideal is one similar to yours," I explained to the girl. "That the truest test of the self is made in battle. They fight to become stronger, to become wiser. They find honor in conflict against a worthy opponent, or they're supposed to, whether they win or lose. In some ways, it's a noble idea of a proud people.

"I was never quite able to hate the Mandalorians during the war—in fact, I met some in parleys and other such things that I liked a great deal. But they had to be stopped, anyway. You see, their reliance upon strength, their insistence upon a challenge, also manifests itself in a contempt for weakness. They do terrible things when their opponents don't rise up to challenge them and there is no outlet for their steel. Worlds burn."

It was a moment before I could go on, as I remembered those burning worlds, the sound of screaming and blaster fire, Basilisk droids raining from the skies, and the bodies of civilians the Republic had assumed the Mandalorians wouldn't attack to get to them, before we arrived.

"As nice, as poetic an idea as it is to test yourself always in battle, in struggle," I was able to say at last, "It's one that can't be sustained in civilization, Handmaiden. Your Echani duels have become more ritual dances than combat, and that's good. It means the Echani can survive alongside others. Mandalorians—they can't. Davrel, back there, all those ones that have turned to spice or enforcing—it's really rather sad, actually."

* * *

_"I like Mandalorians," Aithne commented. She looked embarrassed. "Well, at least the dozen or so I've met since…"_

_ "I'm pretty sure you liked them then, too," Darden said. "If it helps."_

_ "Even if I did basically annihilate them. They won't ever recover, you know. And if they do, if they manage to avoid extinction, there's no way they'll ever be the same."_

_ "Everything has to adapt in order to survive," Darden shrugged. "Maybe they'll make themselves into something less destructive, something more enduring. Maybe under Canderous they have that chance. They're calling him Mandalore the Preserver now, you know."_

_ "Mandalore the Preserver. Force, he would've hated that when I met him on Taris. Guess he adapted, too."_

* * *

Kreia seemed to be impressed by my analysis. "You see much," she remarked. It was rare praise.

Bao-Dur looked thoughtful. "I never could see it that way," he said. "All the things they did, the millions they killed. I hated them. I still hate them. But—in my hate for them, I killed just as many."

"I think what matters is what's in the heart and mind when one goes into battle," I reflected. "One has to be careful, or else even moved by an opponent's terrible actions, one becomes the enemy one is trying to destroy." I paused. "I think that's what happened to Revan." I kicked at a leaf, and ran a hand through my soaking wet hair. "I think it might've happened to me."

"Not you, General," Bao-Dur said, adamant. "You did what you had to. Your programming never got corrupted."

The Handmaiden was not as certain, but she said, "I will think on your words. You have given me much to contemplate. I think—perhaps all is not as Atris said. Perhaps you are not as Atris said."

There was a barking growl from the undergrowth. "Cannok!" I cried.

We weren't just trying to fend off the beasts anymore. We really were after the cannoks. Zuka needed his pulse converter, and the part's rare enough I didn't know another way we were going to get it for him. Not on Dxun. So along with trying to find a demolitions site and a dead body, we were also out to disembowel cannoks. There were four in this latest group, and I slit them open with distaste, gagging at the smell. This was one instance where I was very grateful for the rain that washed most of the mess away.

One of the cannoks had indeed eaten part of a pulse converter. I grabbed it, and Bao-Dur took it and started washing it on the wet grass. Another cannok, though—I grabbed another hard fluid-covered lump, staring at it, then started washing it frantically myself.

"Bao-Dur!" I cried.

"Yes?" he said, putting the now-clean pulse converter part in his pack. He knelt beside me and looked at the parts I handed him. "That's a lightsaber emitter fixture," he said. "And a crystal. Yeah—it's amazing, but they're usable. Put them in your pack with the power cell fixture."

I did, smiling so wide I thought my face would split. "If I can just find a lens fixture—I can _build_ the emitter, power cell, and lens, Bao-Dur. I could do this."

The two of us stood. "You aim to build a new lightsaber?" Kreia asked sharply. "There is much importance, much craving attached to such a tiny thing of light. Why would you build such a thing?"

I thought about my answer for a moment before I knew. "Because if I'm going to talk to these former Jedi, represent the Order and ask that they return, I want them to remember, when they look at me, what they gave up. A lightsaber is a symbol of the Order, even if I'm not. Because if the Exchange, and the Sith, and who knows who else are all going to pursue me as the last of the Jedi, I want the means to be able to defend myself like I am one, and to defend what allies are stupid enough to stand with me."

Kreia was not mollified by my answer. "I see," she said stonily. "Well, the knowledge has been imparted to you. If it is given for you to build another lightsaber, the Force will bring what parts you lack in time."

She was done praising me, but Kreia's annoyance could not lessen my happiness at having found two more lightsaber parts. As I led the others through the Dxun jungle, I did not find it so oppressive anymore.

To the northwest, we found the demolitions site Mandalore had sent us to find. It was in an empty clearing. The permacrete detonator was primed, just standing there ready to go off. I hesitated.

"This is too easy," I told the others. "Shields up, and be prepared for a fight."

Then I flipped the switch.

The explosion was enormous. The heat from it dried the moisture right off my face and front. The light from it flashed me right back to the battle of Dxun, and I tensed all over and almost caved in on myself. Sweat broke out on my face, and I started breathing heavily. Angry yowling and growling sounded behind me, but it sounded far away.

"General!" Bao-Dur said in a much louder voice than usual. He gripped my shoulder, and I was back with him, the Handmaiden, and Kreia.

I turned to face the two malraas and three boma advancing on us, shaking their heads to dispel their ringing ears.

Shifting my grip on my vibrosword, I prepared to meet them.

Usually I just shot or sliced, Aithne, but there were too many this time. Two boma had cornered the Handmaiden, and as skilled as the girl was, they were just too big, too angry. A malraas was menacing Bao-Dur. The other malraas and boma were leaping at me and Kreia. I swallowed, then I reached out with the Force, and held all of the animals stationary. The effort made my knees shake and my eyes burn, but I could do it. I laughed, elated by my returning strength. I cut down the malraas and boma, as the Handmaiden got free and killed one of the boma threatening her. Bao-Dur took out the other malraas. In short order the last boma was dispatched.

"You are grown strong in the Force," Kreia remarked. "I can feel its touch upon you. It wearies you still, but soon what just took you nearly all your strength will be nothing compared to what you can achieve."

It seemed a little unbelievable. My every muscle ached as if I had sprinted eight mountain kilometers carrying ten kilograms on my back. But just to do what I had done was incredible. "I don't know about that, Kreia," I laughed. "Let's go on. There's more to do."

Then I paused, thinking better of it. The four of us had been going for hours in the rain up against vicious beasts, not counting our little interlude in the Mandalorian camp. I dug in my pack and pulled out rations. "You're incredible, all of you, but even you can't go all day. Let's eat."

We sat down, heedless of the wet ground in our already soaked clothes, and ate dried fruit and jerky for a little while. Then, by and by, we were able to go on.

A ways south, we encountered another Mandalorian, not Davrel. He hailed us.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked. "It's dangerous for your kind."

"You mean non-Mandalorians? Your Mandalore doesn't think so," I told him. "Or at least he's giving me the opportunity to prove the theory wrong. What's your name? I thought all the Mandalorian patrols had been stopped."

"I am Kelborn," he replied. "A Mandalorian scout. I don't go on patrols. Mandalore sent me out here personally to track a ship that landed in the area."

"You talking about the Duros one? It's deeper in the jungle—to the south," I told him.

"No, it wasn't them," Kelborn told me. "That ship was damaged and screaming its ID signature all the way down. This one was trying to slip in quietly, and it was keeping its ion emissions to a minimum. Our sensors almost didn't pick it up."

I glanced at Bao-Dur, and he didn't look any happier than I felt. I remembered Atton's warning about another ship. "I don't like this," I muttered. "What have you found?" I asked Kelborn.

Kelborn gestured with his toe to a body a few meters away. "Just this corpse here," he said. "Looks like a scout, and pretty green, too. The fool walked right into a group of cannoks and got torn apart. He can't have been the only one crawling around here." He looked at me and my friends, and I caught a glimmer of interest from him. "You say Mandalore cleared you to be out here? You up for some action?"

Of course, he couldn't let anyone find the camp. I folded my arms. "Depends on what you mean by action," I said. "What are you planning to do? Kill them?"

Kelborn laughed at me. "Squeamish? Don't worry. I'm not planning on killing them unless I have to. But people do have a habit of shooting Mandalorians on sight. If so, I wouldn't mind a good fight."

He made sense, except that if someone had snuck down to Dxun, odds were they weren't after the Mandalorians. I decided it was in our best interests to help Kelborn find whoever had been on his stealth ship, before they found us, or the _Ebon Hawk_. "As long as I'm not signing up for a blood hunt," I said. "What's the plan?"

Kelborn looked over at the corpse again. "There's more of these scouts in the jungle," he said. "There's many paths, and I don't want them to slip by. If we split up, we should be able to find their scouts. If you're up for it."

"I'll help you out," I agreed. "No one knows you Mandalorians are here. If these scouts are hiding, they're probably looking for me."

His faceplate swiveled to regard me directly, and I sensed a huge wave of interest from him, but I didn't offer to clarify. "I'll take up a position to the east," he said finally, when he realized I wasn't going to say anything else. "You go west. I'll make sure none of them get past me."

I waved him off, and led our party south and west. It didn't take us very long to find the scouts. Kelborn was right. They didn't know anything about the Dxun jungle. They plunged through the brush like maddened bantha, cracking twigs, running into bushes, and generally making a Force-awful racket. I waited for them to come to me.

I heard them talking before I saw them. A human female was complaining to a male companion about the missing scout. "I hope this mission is worth it to the colonel," she said grumpily. "If not—"

She and her two friends came out of the brush and caught sight of me and the others. A male looked at me, checked. "Wait. Isn't that—"

"It's her!" the woman cried. "Get her!"

They opened fire. I dodged and jumped at them.

When it was over, I looked down at the corpses. "Yeah, I thought they were after us," I said to the others. "Come on. There might be more."

In fact there were four more, fighting a herd of boma. They didn't want to talk either.

I left their corpses feeling rather depressed. Here I was on Dxun, only to be battling again. I wished I'd had a choice.

We returned to the north and east to rejoin Kelborn. He was standing above his own group of corpses. "More of their scouts," he told me. "They started shooting as soon as they saw me. I heard blaster fire coming from deeper in the jungle. You find something?"

"I came across two groups of scouts," I reported. "I was right. They were after me. They aren't anymore."

"I'm surprised they were after you," Kelborn remarked. "I thought their grudge was only against Mandalorians. Find out anything useful from them?"

He was the Mandalorian scout, I reflected. If I told him straightaway what I'd heard, he might never tell me what he'd learned. The information would just go straight to Mandalore. "You first. What did you find out?"

Kelborn didn't seem offended by my request. "I searched their corpses. I'm pretty certain that they're Onderonian military, but without the tags. Could be a covert operation."

"Well, yes, it would be. But what makes you think so?"

Kelborn was very, very interested now. "The only thing the scouts had on them was weapons," he replied, slowly. "No identity cards, no personal effects, and no evidence to figure out who they were if they died or were captured out here."

"Yet you're sure they were military? All of them?"

"It doesn't work that way, stranger," Kelborn said, having reached the limit of the free information he was willing to dispense. "I've told you what I found, now you tell me what you found, and why these scouts were after you."

"The scouts mentioned a colonel before they saw us and attacked," I told him. "That's all I know about them."

"Colonel, huh?" Kelborn repeated thoughtfully. "Could be Colonel Tobin. Tobin is General Vaklu's personal kath hound. If he's on your trail, you might want to steer clear of Onderon."

"I don't have that luxury. I already knew he fired on my ship and forced us down here, though."

"He was probably acting on orders from General Vaklu," Kelborn said. "If so, you've made some dangerous enemies, stranger."

I ignored this as blatantly obvious. "Why Vaklu, though?" I asked. "Who is he?"

"General Vaklu is the cousin of Queen Talia," Kelborn said. "He's also in charge of the Onderon military. He led the Onderon resistance when we occupied their world during the Mandalorian Wars. He was a worthy foe, maybe more than a match for you. Mandalore needs to know about the scouts. I'll let him know about your role in dealing with them."

"We'll see you back at camp, then."

"You might, you might not," Kelborn said. He started to go, then turned. "I hear you've been fighting in the battle circle. Your actions have proven you worthy of facing our best in the circle. I will speak to the sergeant on your behalf. Perhaps we can face each other there."

I hesitated, then shook my head. "I would spar with you privately, if you wish," I said. "But I fought one of you earlier who considered it a dishonor to lose to me. I seek to shame no one."

Kelborn seemed to evaluate me. "Farewell, then," he said after a moment. "See you back at camp." His tone was unreadable, but I got the feeling that I had impressed him.

I waved, and looked at the sky, a bit worried. "Let's go east," I said to the others. "There's still a lot to do, and it's heading toward nightfall."

"Lead on. I will follow," said the Handmaiden.

I looked back at my companions. All three were soaked to the skin. The Handmaiden was shivering slightly. But none of them had complained even once. "Thank you," I murmured. "Your help—I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

Northeast, the four of us eventually came to a cliff. There were charges set along it, and another permacrete detonator. But there was no one around. I blinked. "Hello?"

A weak voice sounded from above. "You there…I…am in need of assistance."

I looked up. Up a tree on top of the cliff, a Mandalorian was looking down at us. I could see his armored arms shaking with fatigue. "Who are you?" I called up to him.

"I am Kumus," he said. "A Mandalorian warrior. My brothers believe me dead. Without aid, they shall soon be right."

I looked around at the empty clearing ready to blow, and back up at him. "So what's going on? What are you doing up there?"

"A patrol was sent to look for weapons caches in this region," he reported. "They found three sites that looked promising. Xarga, my commander, told me to prove myself by taking explosives to those sites and uncovering the caches, if they exist."

"So what happened?" I asked again. "I mean, here's the detonator, the charges are all set—why haven't you set them off and gone back already?"

At first, Kumus was reluctant to answer. Finally, he said. "This was the first site. After easily dispatching some malraas, I removed my pack and began to plant my charges along this ridge. When I finished setting the charges, I looked to see cannoks swarming all over my pack. The pests were eating everything! I killed the cannoks, but then a herd of boma arrived. I had no more ammo—the extra energy cells I had brought had been in my pack. So I have been up here, weaponless, for two days."

"And without anything else, either," I said, finally placing the weakness in the kid's voice as hunger. "I see. How can I help?"

"You must have cleared a path through the beasts coming here," Kumus said. "If you take care of the boma beasts around the ledge, I can make it to safety."

I realized the indignity of the young man's position. I rummaged in my pack, thinking there might perhaps be a more honorable way out of the mess for Kumus. "I have an extra ammo clip, if you want it," I told him.

"My blaster rifle has been useless ever since I used it to bash in a cannok's skull," he said sheepishly.

I forced myself not to laugh. "Then consider the boma gone."

"Your actions are worthy of a Mandalorian," Kumus said. "Return here when you have slain the beasts, and I will be able to return to camp."

There were just three boma. Together, Bao-Dur, the Handmaiden, Kreia and I were able to dispatch them easily. When we'd finished, I called up to the cliff. "You can come down now! They're gone!"

Kumus half climbed, half fell out of his tree. He stumbled down the cliff to meet me. "I am grateful for your help, stranger. I am returning to the Mandalorian camp now. I won't forget this. I have only one request…please don't mention this incident to anyone."

I gave him my widest, blankest gaze. "What incident?" I asked. Then I winked.

I felt Kumus' gratitude. He started to go, but the Handmaiden stopped him. "Before you go, Mandalorian," she said, rummaging in her white pack. She brought out a bag of dried fruit. "It would not do for you to faint of hunger on the way back to the encampment."

Kumus bowed. "Again, thank you." He left.

I bumped the Handmaiden's shoulder with my own. "That was a good thing you did," I told her. "Thank you." She looked sideways at me, and smiled shyly.

Bao-Dur was still watching Kumus go. "I have no love for Mandalorians," he said. "But just letting him starve up there…I think you did the right thing, General."

"There's no point in hating the Mandalorians, anymore," I told him. "They're beaten, and that one was just a kid that made a stupid mistake. There was no need for him to die."

"I agree," Bao-Dur said, as if a little surprised he'd come to that conclusion. "There was enough senseless death back then to last a lifetime without adding any more."

I clapped him on the back. "Come on. There's still the zakkeg, and we haven't found all the parts of that pulse converter, either."

As the rainy sky started to darken over Dxun, we found the last two pieces of the phase pulse converter. To the south, we found Davrel at last.

"You have arrived," he whispered when he caught sight of us. "The zakkeg is just up ahead. Together, we have a chance of defeating it."

"Been a while since I was on Dxun," I admitted. "What do you know about zakkegs?"

"They are heavily armored," Davrel said. "They aren't particularly agile, but if they connect it can be deadly. A skilled patrol of warriors can kill the beast."

"Do you have a plan?"

"We go into the clearing and attack it," Davrel said simply. "Either it dies or we do. Beasts of the jungle are fierce and powerful. Straightforward plans work the best."

"Fine," I said. "Shields up?" I drew my blaster. For a heavily armored creature, it was a better bet than my vibroblade. "Let's go."

The zakkeg was enormous—about as big as a full grown rancor, Aithne, if that gives you any idea. It had long, thick fangs, brutal, ripping claws, and a tail that could club anybody into the next decade. Luckily, it didn't see too well. I took aim and fired once, twice. I hit my mark both times, and the zakkeg couldn't see at all.

It shrieked with pain.

"Go!" I cried to my companions.

We took the zakkeg in a sort of tag-team effort. One by on the Handmaiden, Bao-Dur, and Kreia danced forward to take stabs at the big lizard, while Davrel and I fired at it from a distance. It took a while. Those things are _very_ heavily armored, and avoiding the clubbing tail and slashing claws took some doing for the melee fighters, especially after it was hurt enough that it went berserk with pain. But eventually, we got it.

Davrel gaped at the corpse for a long, silent moment. Then he bowed to the Handmaiden, Bao-Dur, and Kreia in turn, saving the last and deepest bow for me. "I—I must thank you for your help," he said. "We have killed the zakkeg. I will leave the spoils of battle to you. I am going back to the camp, and I will tell them of our deeds here."

"Sure," I said. "Davrel—good work. You fought valiantly."

Davrel nodded, somewhat bashfully, actually. I wondered how young he actually was, under the armor. There was a pause, then he asked, "You fought in the wars, stranger. In what capacity? Who are you?"

I hesitated for a long moment. But by now, I figured that the Mandalorians here were the good ones. "My name is Darden," I answered Davrel. "Darden Leona."

Davrel gaped longer than he had at the dead zakkeg. It was like the thing had clubbed him over the head. But when he'd recovered, he laughed. "I was foolish to think I could defeat you in battle," he said. "I know that name. We all do. Darden Leona was the name of the Jedi General under Revan that day—at Malachor. You do wrong to hide your identity among us, Jedi. Your strength, your decisiveness, your spirit is held in high regard among my people." He bowed again, more deeply still. "An honor, Darden Leona."

He shook his head, then went off, laughing again.

"Huh," I said. "You know, I never would've expected it, but the Mandalorians might be the absolute best people we could've found right now. Weird."

"You yourself observed the Mandalorians find honor in battle, win or lose," Kreia pointed out. "Let us return to the camp. Night falls, and the beasts will come with still greater ferocity."

"You're right," I said. But before we left, I cut off an ear of that zakkeg to show the patrol captain who'd doubted our abilities.

Back at the camp there was much to do. I had to give the patrol captain the zakkeg ear, and Zuka the pieces of the phase pulse converter. I had to pay my respects to Xarga to make sure that Kumus had made it back in one piece, and step around his questions as to what had kept the kid.

I found Davrel had spread the word about the zakkeg. He'd kept my identity a secret for me to reveal, but the news about the zakkeg was big enough that Mandalorians kept coming up about that and everything else we'd done. Basically they wanted to congratulate us for not being wimpy outsiders, after all, but warriors worthy of honor.

We got a canvas pavilion and some bedrolls of Kex the quartermaster, and at last we were all seated down to supper around a campfire. We were eating and discussing ways Mandalorian culture differed from the Echani when Mandalore came over. Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden kept talking as he sat down next to me, but Kreia fell silent, and listened.

"So," Mandalore said to me. "Kelborn said you dispatched some covert military scouts in the jungle with him. He spoke highly of your work. Zuka told me earlier you helped out with some repairs around the base. That was a great help, but you did not confine yourself to tech work. The patrol captain said you managed to kill a zakkeg. Those are tough beasts. You've earned some respect around here, I can see. Xarga just told me you returned one of our sheep to the herd, and for that, too, you have gained some small prestige. Just now, I saw Zuka repairing the phase pulse converter. How many cannoks did you have to kill to find the parts for him? You've been an enormous help. I won't forget it. You've made quite the reputation around here. You did better than I thought you could."

I sensed, however, he was unsurprised. I took a drink of water and regarded him. "Did I? I get a feeling you know just about everything that goes on in the sector, 'Mandalore,'" I told him. "You probably knew exactly how much help I could be when you asked this morning. I set off your permacrete detonator, too. That cache is ready for retrieval."

"I know," Mandalore said. "It made quite a racket. Good work."

"Did you know it would attract the boma, too?" I challenged him.

He laughed. "It wouldn't be much of a test if all you had to do was take a hike through the jungle, would it? You're alive, in one piece, and learned something about the beasts of the jungle."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you train your recruits here?" I asked him. Then I had to laugh. "Unorthodox, but effective."

Despite all my misgivings, I was starting to like the mysterious 'Mandalore.' I thought that, aside from offering the Mandalorians in this camp something productive into which to channel their energy, he might be the reason for their positive attitudes. But even beyond that, the Force told me that the man was important, somehow. He felt familiar to me, even then, like the echo of a memory, or a friend of a friend.

Mandalore opened his gauntleted hand and gave me something. "You're all right, for a Jedi," he said. "Darden Leona, is it?"

I stared at him, and then down at the perfect lightsaber lens fixture in the palm of my hand. Mandalore laughed once again.

"You said yourself, I know pretty much everything that happens in the sector. Davrel told me. But I'd recognized you already, Leona. Tell you what, I wasn't planning on going to Iziz for a few days yet, but I'll move up the timetable and take you tomorrow. You won't be able to get to the _Ebon Hawk_ from the city. If you need to grab anything from your ship, I'd do it now."

"No—I don't need anything," I answered. "But—could I use your workbench? I saw one, in the building with the telemetry computer."

"Sure, whatever you need," Mandalore said, rising. He restrained it, but I thought I heard him groan. "See you in the morning, Leona."

"Yeah," I said, waving him off and taking a last bite of the boma steak a Mandalorian woman had brought over to us earlier. I stood. "Bao-Dur?"

He rose. "Yes, General?"

I went over to him. I gave him the lightsaber lens fixture, then got out the other parts I'd gathered in Dxun and on Telos. "I do have all the lightsaber parts I need, right?"

"Let me see what you have," he said, taking the other parts from me. He inspected each one, and smiled slowly. "Yes. That's everything. Now all you need is a little quiet time with the workbench."

I grinned. "Come with me," I said, on an impulse. "If you like. I'd like you to be there, when I build it."

"I'd like that."

I waved at Kreia and the Handmaiden. "We'll be back in a bit," I told them.

Bao-Dur and I crossed the camp to the telemetry building. I almost skipped. It was as if someone had pumped helium into all my limbs. When we came to the workbench, Bao-Dur handed over the pieces. I took some components—metal, circuits, casing—from the parts bin next to the bench. I focused, and began to build, thinking of the friends I was making, and the mission I was on.

I fashioned a lens, an emitter, and a power cell for my fixtures—ones that would make my blade focused, keen, and radiant. I erred a little on the side of blaster bolt deflection, keeping in mind the bounty, but not so much that it would hurt melee combat. Then, I arranged the fixtures and began to wire them together in a double blade schematic.

"I'm glad I found you again, General," Bao-Dur said, from behind me.

"Why? What do you mean?" I asked, attaching wires together.

"We were together at Malachor. I don't know if anyone else could understand."

His words were vague. "The anger?" I asked. "The guilt? The restlessness? Is that why you're here? I'm trying to leave that behind." Biting my lip, I carefully, carefully positioned the focusing crystal in the exact center of the shaft. The Force pulsed as it aligned correctly with the other parts. I smiled.

"I'm here because you found me on Telos and I decided to come along for the ride," Bao-Dur said drily. "Not that I had much choice after we got going."

I wired in the switch that would activate the blade, and felt the circuits connect. I took a deep breath, and brought up the metal, rubber, and tools I'd need to form the grip. "There's always a choice, Bao-Dur," I said. "You didn't have to come. You know that."

"Tired of me already?" he joked. "I was frustrated," he admitted. "Watching the Ithorians get pushed around by Czerka—I thought I could make a difference, but it was taken away from me. Guess if one planet was good enough for me, why not the galaxy?"

His words were confused, uncomfortable, the rambling of a person more comfortable with wires and numbers than people and words. I understood him, though. I didn't reply right away, though.

I finished casing the wiring and started designing the grip. Before, my lightsaber was beautiful, Aithne. I worked it with several different materials, with bursting stars and ancient Jedi script and scrollwork. It was the weapon of an idealistic child. This time, fashioning my lightsaber like that seemed wrong. A lightsaber, however it is wielded, is still a deadly weapon. And death is not beautiful. I worked the grip to fit my hand. I used different materials like I had before, to symbolize the places I'd been and the places I was going. But the design was utilitarian instead of artistic.

As I decided on the design and started to work the metals with heat and pressure, I spoke again. "So. You and I are supposed to fix the galaxy now, are we?" I asked Bao-Dur. I laughed. "Even if we managed to figure out what was wrong with it, how would we know where to start?"

"You just have to know what the circuits look like," he said.

"It's all wires and switches to you, huh?"

"That's how I see things," he answered. "Traveling with you, I know there's something else in the universe, but I can't do anything about it anyways. So I'll leave it to you to take care of."

The wiring completed, the casing done, I reached out with the Force, aligning all the parts to work together, one weapon. The circuits came together, the parts fell into place. The crystal pulsed sweetly as it hit the spot it would make the blade work, but I held the Force on the lightsaber until I felt Bao-Dur touch my shoulder gently.

"General. It's done."

I stopped, and felt out with the Force. He was right. It was perfect. I looked at my lightsaber, cooling on the bench, and then back at Bao-Dur. I'd wondered before if possibly there was more to my quiet mechanic than met the eye. He had sensed the completion of my lightsaber before I had, something only possible through the Force. I was almost certain then of what I had only guessed before. I reached out toward him with the Force, searching.

I felt something in him shift in response, and he blinked. He hadn't quite sensed me, or at least he didn't know he had, but it was enough. "You sell yourself short," I told him quietly. "As for me, these days if I'm not dead by bedtime, I've done really well. But I'm trying to fix things where I can."

I called my new lightsaber with the Force. It rose in the air and fell into my open palm, still warm. I activated it. The double-blade slid out, silvery gray, almost white. I stepped away from the workbench to the center of the room, and made a few passes. The blade hummed through the air, reveling in its birth. I deactivated it. "It's finished," I said. "Thank you," I told Bao-Dur.

"You did it all yourself, General," Bao-Dur said. "Now you really are the General again. We should head back to the others and get some sleep, if we're going to Onderon in the morning."

I agreed, and brought up my com-link. It occurred to me that it'd be a good idea to contact Atton and tell him that we wouldn't be back to the _Ebon Hawk_ for a while. I pushed the face to connect to the _Ebon Hawk_, but only heard static and white noise. "Atton?"

Bao-Dur looked at me. "He probably hasn't fixed communications yet," he said.

I shut off the com-link. "Yeah, maybe," I said. But even the new lightsaber in my hand couldn't stop my stomach from flipping once, uneasily. Bao-Dur and I set off again across the camp. We fell asleep to the sound of Xarga's recruits doing night-attack drills.

The blaster fire that woke us in the morning was completely different. I woke up with a start as a Mandalorian shouted, "Stealthed targets have breached the perimeter!"

Kreia was beside me as I bolted upright. She was already dressed and armed. "Our enemy has tracked us here," she said. "Iridonian, servant of Atris! Awaken!" Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden shot up just like I had, live like an uninsulated wire. The Handmaiden seized her pack and weapon immediately. Bao-Dur picked up his vibroblade from where he'd left it beside his bedroll.

"I did not expect them so soon," Kreia said quickly. "How did they get here, I wonder? Regardless, we must eliminate them all. None of them can escape. Our whereabouts must remain a secret. Let us join the battle. Our allies will need our help."

I grabbed my new lightsaber, and activated it.

It was the Sith, Aithne. Dozens of them. They were attacking Xarga and his recruits meters away. I threw my pack on. "Come on!"

It was hard to keep track of how many Sith there were, Aithne. They kept materializing and stealthing out again. As I joined the fight, I fell into Shii-Cho, the first form I had learned as an apprentice on Coruscant.

Bao-Dur fought differently this morning. He was not so reckless, nor so angry. He fought the Sith with powerful strokes, but this morning, he backed up me and the Handmaiden, and I didn't have to watch him so much.

The Handmaiden was beginning to get a feel for fighting with me, instead of sparring against me. As we battled, her blue eyes were narrowed in determination. She was everywhere I most needed an ally before I called it out to her, utilizing her Echani training to support me.

Perhaps I should tell you now that in a conversation with Kreia, she had told me once that these Sith assassins sensed their opponents through the Force, and grew stronger according to the strength in the Force their opponents possessed. As we fought, Kreia attempted to draw them off, hardly lifting her lightsaber and battling primarily with the Force.

To some extent it worked. Several of the Sith converged upon her, and it was only with the Mandalorians' assistance that the old woman kept them at bay. But Kreia's ploy didn't work entirely. I'd been getting stronger and stronger, and by now I was almost as worthy of the assassins' attention as my teacher. But a few of them focused on Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden, and I knew that my suspicions of their Force Sensitivity were well-grounded.

Bao-Dur cried out as a Sith sword pierced his thigh. I didn't even hesitate, but focused on him. I felt the blood flowing, and I willed the wound to heal, to knit itself together. It did so, and we fought on.

We'd been fighting for perhaps twenty minutes when I became aware that Mandalore was fighting next to us, shooting at Sith with a massive repeating blaster rifle. "Seems trouble follows you on a regular basis," he called over to me. "You have your gear? I think it's best for both of us if we head to Iziz immediately. My men will take care of cleaning up the mess."

Sweeping a gaze over the camp, I saw only three or four Sith still fighting. I swung around to follow Mandalore toward the hangar.

As I did, I hit my com-link again. "Atton!" I called. "Atton, come in!" There was no response. Only static. I had accepted Bao-Dur's explanation of ongoing repairs the night before, but now it struck me that there might be a much more sinister reason for my inability to get through. "Dammit! Come on, you spacebrain!" I shouted into the com-link. "Pick the hell up!"

I still couldn't get through. I'd been running all this time, and I felt Bao-Dur helping me into Mandalore's shuttle. Mandalore took the seat behind the controls and initiated the takeoff sequence as the Handmaiden shut the door. "Wait—"I said. "Atton, our pilot—he was back at the ship, making repairs."

"If our enemy found the ship, the fool is already dead," Kreia said. "If they did not, communications are still down and we waste our time and put ourselves in danger going back. Fly on," she commanded Mandalore.

Someone seemed to have tied my insides into knots, and the edges of my vision was all fuzzy. I tried to speak, but it came out an incoherent protest.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ is in the deepest jungle, with all its systems down," the Handmaiden said, taking the seat next to mine. She watched me with concern. "Did you not tell me on our voyage that these Sith track their opponents through the Force? With all the ship's systems down, they are most likely drawn to you, Exile, not any transmission. If our Mandalorian allies do not destroy all of them, then they will follow us. In my judgment, the pilot is most likely unharmed."

The shuttle strained as Mandalore flew it through the heavy Dxun atmosphere and toward Onderon. "I sent a guard to your ship yesterday," Mandalore said. "To keep it safe if something like this happened. You mentioned a pilot, and I thought they might want to know what was going on."

Some of my building panic dissipated, and things came into focus again. "Thank you," I told Mandalore. I looked at the Handmaiden. "I hope you're right."

I pressed the com-link again, and again, heard only static. I bit my lip, and Mandalore looked back at me. But there was nothing to be said, so he said nothing.

* * *

_ Aithne had pulled her legs to her chest. She stared at the floor, practically radiating discomfort. "You remind me of a…of a friend of mine. Whenever I was in trouble, or he thought I might be, he…"she trailed off. Swallowed. Darden watched her, waiting, but she didn't continue the thought. Instead, she cleared her throat. "Is that the lightsaber there the one you built?"_

_ Darden inclined her head. "Would you like to see it?"_

_ Aithne extended a finely boned hand. Darden picked up the lightsaber from where she'd placed it with her outer armor, and placed the hilt in Aithne's palm._

_ Darden felt Aithne focus the Force on the saber as she turned it over in her hand. The grip was too small for Aithne's longer fingers. "It's made for your scars—in the Force and physically. Why do you have the hand scars, anyway, though? Melee scars from failed blocks, but you should've been able to heal yourself with the Force."_

_ "I didn't get them in the war," Darden said. "I got those early on in my exile. I tried fighting with a vibroblade at first, before I switched over to a blaster. I was somewhere out here—you know, beyond the ass end of nowhere- and I got into a fight with a Trandoshan slaver. I won, but just barely. I was still really weak then. There weren't any kolto tanks, and I couldn't use the Force. By the time I got some place with a decent med lab, the scarring had set in. And when I got there, I bought a blaster."_

_ Aithne accepted this. She stood, and activated Darden's lightsaber. "Interesting color," she said, examining the silvery blade. "Suits you. And you've modified it with—"_

_ "A specialty crystal I got later on that year and an Upari crystal," Darden said. _

_ "It's a powerful saber," Aithne complimented her. "Well put-together." She deactivated it and handed it back to Darden. "It's funny," she said then. "The Revan-stuff's hard, but it's actually…it's actually the crew interaction that's the most difficult for me to hear."_

_ Darden met her gaze steadily. "I know. Shall I continue?"_

_ Aithne sat back down. "Yes," she said, a little reluctantly. "You were on your way to Iziz, on Onderon."_

_ "Yes, Mandalore's shuttle got us past the blockade, just like he promised, and soon we'd landed in the port…"_

* * *

**Coming 6/2: Darden tells Aithne of troubles on Onderon with political tension and hordes of bounty hunters. As Darden describes the happenings on Onderon, Aithne begins to feel hope for the Jedi, and to understand what purpose she might have, should she return to the Republic. **

**And 6/5: As Darden details her violent and abrupt departure from Onderon and a decision Canderous made following, Aithne tells Darden a little about her old friend and his multiple allegiances. **


	16. XIV

**Disclaimer: Original story and inspiration due to Lucasfilm, Bioware, and Obsidian. Thus all creative liberties I've taken are here legally disowned.**

* * *

XIV.

The New Jedi Order

_ "Mandalore stood at the bay door and looked out. "Here we are," he said. "The city of Iziz. It's been shut down tight for months now. General Vaklu is close to declaring martial law. We won't be able to travel too far in the city. Hope you can find out what you need to in the market square."_

I'd never actually been to Iziz before last year. I fought on Dxun, and up in the skies over Onderon, but as I looked out of the bay with Mandalore, it was the first time I beheld the high walls, clear skies, and clean streets of Onderon's city. "I came to Iziz to find a Jedi Master. If he's here, he'll be close to where the trouble is, trying to fix it."

Despite the rarity of Jedi, Mandalore didn't miss a beat. "Then it's fortunate that I have a friend in this quarter of the city with connections. He's a doctor by the name of Dhagon Ghent. His office is on the other side of the market square." He readjusted his grip on his blaster rifle. "It might be best if you do the talking around here," he told me. "The Onderonians have a mixed view of Mandalorians after we conquered their world."

Kreia's words about my supposed leadership ability echoed in my skull as the Mandalorian commander basically told me to take control of the party. I shivered, and stepped out of the bay. Bao-Dur, the Handmaiden, Kreia, and Mandalore all followed.

The tensions on Onderon I'd heard about on Telos and Dxun were immediately apparent. The very air crackled with the stress. I was issued a starport visa by the port authority for Mandalore's shuttle, and told to guard it with my life, for without the document, there would be no leaving Iziz.

A merchant in the starport been restricted to selling goods off-world, as General Vaklu had placed limitations on the arms citizens were permitted to carry. And everywhere, there were caged beasts, growling as restlessly as the conversation that permeated the streets. A man by one such hailed us near the exit to the starport. "Fair winds to you, off-worlders," he called. I stopped. "Is it too much to hope that you are merchants from Telos?"

"We're not. Why do you ask?"

The man gestured at his boma, and at the other caged beasts around the starport. "There beasts you see here are for delivery to Telos," he explained, "But the Republic vessels that transport them have to wait for thorough and needlessly long searches. So the city is stacked with cages of beasts waiting for their ships. We have stopped gathering beasts now, but they still fill the city. For drexl and rider, the Ithorians brought wealth and prosperity. But now…"

A bottleneck in shipping would have caused the skyrocketing prices on Onderon that were giving the Telosians so much difficulty, I realized. "Who are you?" I asked the man. "What do you do?"

"I am a beast-rider," the man said. "I have flown great distances gathering the animals you see here. We keep hoping that the Ithorians or Telosians get through the space forces' searches so that we can sell to them."

"Telos needs new ecosystems if the reclamation efforts on the planet are to succeed," Bao-Dur said. "Ithor, Onderon, and Dxun are rich in food chains necessary to create new life on Telos and sustain it."

The beast-rider nodded sadly. "Although some of your terms are unknown to me, off-worlder, what you say is true. Telos was attacked by Darth Malak in the Jedi Civil War. The surface was completely destroyed. The Ithorians have been searching for appropriate wildlife to create a new Telos. But their merchants are stalled by the blockade."

"It'll be another death blow to Telos if no new ecosystems are brought to the planet," Bao-Dur told me. "The Ithorians are only part of the equation."

"Your friend is correct," the beast-rider agreed. "Much harm is being done on both sides as long as the blockade is in effect."

"Is there anything we can do, Exile?" the Handmaiden wanted to know. "I understand if our primary purpose is more important, but Atris would also appreciate any effort that furthers the restoration of Telos."

"If I did anything it would be because it was the right thing to do, and not to please your mistress," I told her, in an undertone so the beast rider couldn't hear. "But I don't see what I can do. The military wants to kill me."

The boma in the cage growled so menacingly that I turned back to the beast-rider. "Your beasts are a bit restless, aren't they?"

The man stroked his mustache and his brow furrowed. "They have been kept in their cages for a long time. But yet, at times, I feel as if something else is affecting them, frightening them."

"Beasts can be sensitive to the currents within cities and people," Kreia commented. "When such things are disturbed, the beasts may echo it."

"Perhaps it is the city itself," the beast-rider speculated. "Iziz has fallen upon dark times, and tensions run high in the streets."

He explained a little about his people and their beast-taming trade. "But now things are unraveling," he concluded. "Even the beasts can smell it in the air."

"Exactly what's unraveling? What's going on?"

"Many beast-riders have fallen to the city ways," the man said darkly. "Some are now no more than common thugs. Queen Talia and her cousin General Vaklu argue in open councils. The beasts stir from the changes in the wind, and cannot be calmed. And we beast-riders find it harder to enter the city each day."

"Why?"

"No one is allowed to leave the city without the starport visas," he explained. "It chokes passage in and out of Iziz."

"I see," I said. "Thank you for the information, sir. I'm sorry I can't be of more help to you. We'll take our leave, now."

The beast-rider turned back to his maddened boma, attempting to calm it, but instead of subsiding, the beast reared up, breaking out of its cage. The beast-rider cried out a warning as the creature charged at me, jumping back.

I whirled, activating my lightsaber. I plunged it into the side of the boma beast. It felt to the ground, twitching, and died.

It wasn't the only trouble in Iziz. The same tension that had made the creature crazy was rife in the market square outside the starport. Everywhere, people whispered in hushed voices about General Vaklu and Queen Talia, independence and staying loyal to the Republic. Not only merchants in the starport, but merchants everywhere, were regulated. Everywhere, people both scrupulous and otherwise hoping to flee the oncoming storm begged for an open starport visa. I learned the military was shutting down free press when I stopped some of Vaklu's men from arresting a reporter. The news holo by the side of the street reported both that the _Ebon Hawk_, acting for the Republic, had fired first in the space battle yesterday morning, and that the ship had been destroyed.

It was obviously a purposely inflammatory lie that the _Ebon Hawk_ had fired first, under the Republic banner. I could only hope that it was a lie designed to be more calming that the ship had been subsequently destroyed. On Onderon, my simple wrist com-link couldn't hope to signal all the way back to Dxun, and I didn't have access to a more powerful transmitter.

There was a man shouting a speech to a crowd near the edge of the marketplace as Bao-Dur, the Handmaiden, Mandalore, Kreia and I headed toward where Mandalore said Dhagon Ghent lived.

"There must come a time when the Queen bows to the will of the people," he was saying. "The Republic has brought nothing but war and death! In our fifty years of flying their colors we have had more war than in the last millennia. Back General Vaklu in his effort to make her see reason. We do not need the Republic. They need our resources, our world, and our blood! For all that we have given, now we get nothing. The Republic is weak and falling apart. Its Jedi, whose fallen brethren have brought so much misery to us, have disbanded. Let's be the first world to take our future into our hands. Are you with me?"

I'd been trying to force through the crowd, but the pause got my attention. I looked up and found the rabble-rouser's fevered eyes fixed on me. "What—me?"

"Yes!" the man cried. "You! It is up to each and every one of us to turn the tide. To take control of our future!"

The crowd shifted, scanning faces until they realized the speaker addressed me. More and more of them found me, and I heard murmurs as they waited to hear my response. The Handmaiden adjusted her grip on her weapon, and Mandalore half raised that scary repeating blaster rifle of his.

I sensed no overt hostility from the crowd yet, so I spoke. "Surely the Republic does something for you—the trade with Telos. You're getting paid a lot of money to provide your beasts to the restoration effort there."

"The Republic takes from us!" the speaker retorted, gesticulating wildly. "They are like mynocks sucking energy and resources from so many worlds. They bleed us for their bureaucracy and their excesses."

A soldier was standing nearby, and now his voice cut harshly over the speaker. "That's enough, Ponlar! If you keep this up, you're going to spend time in detention. You're coming awfully close to treason."

The man, Ponlar, flushed furiously. "You can't silence me forever, soldier." The soldier stepped close, and Ponlar stepped off the rim of the fountain where he had been standing. "But—I'll hold my peace for now."

Muttering in discontent, the crowd began to disperse.

"Let us go," Kreia said to me.

"Yeah," I agreed.

Just a few meters away, however, two more people were arguing. A Devaronian and a male Twi'lek were debating the state of affairs on Onderon as well, though much more civilly. /But General Vaklu would cut himself off from the many planets of the Republic,/ the Devaronian was arguing. /This is foolish. In solitude no civilization prospers./

/You don't understand the people of Onderon,/ the Twi'lek rebutted. /They are proud and have fought many adversaries to get where they are, mostly by themselves, too. They have given much to the Republic, and see little in return. General Vaklu believes independence would be in Iziz's best interests./

/But Republic fights battles to free Onderon from Mandalorian warriors,/ was the Devaronian's argument. /Should be thankful. Queen Talia is young but looks after her people. She should be honored./

/The Mandalorians would never have been on that moon if it weren't for Exar Kun,/ the Twi'lek said. /And he was a fallen Jedi. I think General Vaklu is right./

The two aliens seemed nice enough, and knowledgeable about the state of affairs on the planet. It struck me as a good opportunity to get more information about the lay of the land. I stepped forward as politely as an eavesdropping bystander ever can. "Um—excuse me. Could you tell me about General Vaklu? I'm from off-world. I've heard a lot since landing about what he's doing on the planet and how he's pushing for Onderonian independence, but I have to admit I don't know much about him."

The two aliens bowed, and the Devaronian spat, /Vaklu lies. He twists words and tries to take heart of people away from their rightful Queen. He is schutta./

The curse took me a little aback, and the Twi'lek replied hotly, /He is a war hero, leader of the resistance during the Mandalorian Wars. A man of vision with experience./

Whatever his objections to the Devaronian's insults, however, the Twi'lek was too academic not to acknowledge his opponent's point. He added, /He…may not tell all the truth, but he works for the best interests of the people. Many realize this./

/He would start war to oust the good Queen. The suffering he would bring is wrong,/ the Devaronian contended.

"Especially if his platform is that the Republic's brought war to Onderon," I murmured. "What do you think of Queen Talia, then?"

/Talia works with Republic,/ the Devaronian volunteered. /She rules peaceably, and is popular with her people./

/Her intentions are good, I admit,/ the Twi'lek conceded. /But those close to power see the mistakes she makes. Nobles, high ranking military, they all support General Vaklu. She does not have the experience of governing, which Iziz needs in these times./

"Who do you trust more?" I asked, more to the Twi'lek than the Devaronian.

/Human ask good question,/ the Devaronian said approvingly. /I don't trust Vaklu. He lies to people, has been caught in them before. Talia is honorable./

The Twi'lek looked uncomfortable then. /The question is unfair,/ he objected. /Sometimes leaders know things the rest of us can't know. I may…not trust everything he says, or his people say. But he is also a man of honor. He never breaks a promise./

/But if you can't trust your leader's words, then how can you trust their motives?/ the Devaronian pointed out. He looked at me. /Human sentient, what do you think?/

The Twi'lek, lekku twitching, looked at me, too. /I also confess, I am curious what you think,/ he admitted.

I looked levelly at both sentients. "This isn't my world," I told them. "But I fought in the Mandalorian Wars. I saw what the Republic did for Onderon, for all the worlds the Mandalorians persecuted—no offense to my friend here."

"None taken," Mandalore said, sounding amused.

"I saw what the Republic sacrificed," I continued. "I support the Republic. Always. So I freely admit I'm biased, but forget that for a moment. A relationship, be it between friends, or between a ruler and a people, is no relationship at all if it is not founded on trust. If it were given to me to decide, based on that alone, I'd support Queen Talia."

The Twi'lek looked thoughtful, and the Devaronian said, /I agree with you, human sentient. Queen Talia has good thoughts and instincts. She will be a great leader./

/Let us discuss this further at the cantina,/ the Twi'lek said to the Devaronian. He bowed to me. /Thank you for your conversation, human./

They left, and Mandalore led us on through the square. "I think you may have changed that sentient's mind about what is happening here," the Handmaiden observed, referring to the Twi'lek, "Yet you said you would not get involved."

The implicit accusation, though it was not made in a spirit of blame, made my face heat up. "It's good to know what's going on in the area you're scouting. And besides, they asked what I thought."

As we passed into the western square, we were met by a Rodian at the head of four hard-faced beast-riders with heavy weapons. When they stopped in front of us, I reached for my lightsaber.

The Rodian's bug-eyes glittered. /We don't get too many shuttles coming to Iziz anymore,/ he said. /Especially shuttles without passengers. A good friend works at the starport and noticed this. It raised some questions. Questions I've answered. So you are Darden Leona. Last of a dying breed, they say. Word from Telos is that you're too difficult to fight alone. So meet some of my new employees. The bounty on your head will make me, and my men, extremely wealthy. This is my lucky day./

Mandalore brought up his gun. "You really _do_ make the insects crawl out of the cracks, don't you, Leona?"

"Unfortunately, these days I seem to."

It wasn't a very difficult fight. We matched the thugs in numbers, but outmatched them in skill. But nevertheless, the firefight was a nuisance.

After it was done, though, no soldiers came running. No nosy civilians. The buildings on the western square were more run down, less friendly. There were rubbish heaps piled around. "Well. Your friend lives in a nice part of town," I said to Mandalore as he led the way past a cantina where music blared.

Mandalore chuckled. "He's not the best doctor you'll ever meet, but he's well connected in this city." He stopped up short before a long, low, whitewashed building. A window had been bashed in. "Doesn't look like he's here right now, though," he said.

Another bearded man wearing the green and red of the beast-riders was loafing around by the building. "You looking for Dhagon?" he asked Mandalore. "You're not going to find him here."

"Why? Where is he?" I asked.

The man jerked his head. "A soldier captain was murdered down at the cantina real good. They got some suspects at the tower. From what I hear, Dhagon Ghent is one of them."

"Mandalore—is your friend a murderer?"

Mandalore was not as bothered by the notion as I was. "He's certainly capable of it, and probably stupid enough to get caught. But we need him, suspicion of murder or not."

"Do you think Dhagon did it?" I asked the beast-rider.

"Like I would know," the man laughed harshly. "Iziz is a crazy place right now."

"Well. Which tower are they holding him at?"

"It's the turret tower on the other side of the market," the guy answered. "Captain Riiken is the man to talk to."

"Thanks for letting us know."

"If you talk to him, tell him I have his twenty credits," the beast-rider said, moving off without making it clear whether he owed credits to Dhagon Ghent or Captain Riiken, or telling me his name so I could pass on an effective message.

I stared at the cracked pavement in front of Dhagon's business for a while. For all I knew, the _Ebon Hawk_ was taken and my pilot dead. The Onderonian military was after me, bounty hunters and Sith were swarming, and the city was about to break out in civil war. I'd risked everything to come look for Master Kavar, and now a murder trial had been thrown into the works. It was just liter after liter of _bad_, Aithne. I breathed slowly and doubled in my head, trying to control my emotions.

"General? Are you all right?" Bao-Dur asked.

"No. But let's go, anyway."

We made for the marketplace, but were stopped once again by the corpses of the beast-rider thugs and the Rodian by a Twi'lek and still more thugs. There were twice as many this time. /Ah—this was your handiwork,/ the Twi'lek said. /I thought I was on the right track. Darden Leona, captain of the _Ebon Hawk_, is it not? Imagine what the soldiers would do to you if they knew you were wandering their streets. You're a wanted criminal now./

"And what if I am?"

The Twi'lek smiled nastily. /The Exchange has quite a bounty on you. Your head is worth many credits…as long as it's recognizable. I'd take you alive, but I doubt I could keep a Jedi from escaping. Dead will have to do./

He signaled his henchmen—mostly Rodians and Aqualish. They brought up their guns, and a cool energy washed over me as Kreia covered me with the Force's protection.

As we fought this second group of thugs, this time much better equipped, more skilled, and twice as large as our own group, I found myself having to protect Mandalore much more than I'd anticipated. He was slow, pained by many old battle wounds. It occurred to me that though the man was obviously smart and experienced, he wasn't as young as he used to be. He didn't move much faster than Kreia, and he didn't have the benefit of the Force.

The Handmaiden, tuned to my actions as ever, caught my anxiety for the Mandalorian and took up a position by his side. Kreia took out the outliers. Bao-Dur fought with me, assaulting the main body of the attackers.

I'd already been worried for Atton, apprehensive about the political state of Iziz, irritated that our contact had been incarcerated. When the firefight was finally done, I was in a very, very bad mood. I knelt beside the Twi'lek corpse and stripped him of the Exchange bounty datapad, deleting the information on it. In his pack behind it, however, was a starport visa. Figuring it might come in handy later, I pocketed that. I stood, and kicked the Twi'lek's corpse.

"Kreia, we're going to Nar Shaddaa next. I don't care _who_ we have to wade through or _what_ we have to do. We are overdue for a talk with this Goto."

Kreia pursed her lips at my tone. "Let us finish our task on this world before we worry what to do on the next one," she said.

It was fair enough, so I didn't say anything more about it. I looked back at Mandalore to check for armor breaches, panting, or other signs he'd been injured, but the man was fine, so we continued on.

In the marketplace, Ponlar the rabble-rouser had been at it again. The crowd had returned, and this time, they were out for blood. Ponlar stood on the fountain, shouting, "I won't remain silent any longer! The Republic has actively attacked us. They attack our space ships unprovoked! What next? An invasion? Perhaps they seek to conquer us. Will you stand idly by? Will you let them bomb our city?!"

"No!" the crowd shouted with one voice. Many shook their fists. Some shook their blasters.

"If Queen Talia is so far removed that she won't do what the people so clearly want, then we must show her. With force!" Ponlar cried.

Two soldiers came up to the fountain. "That's it, Ponlar!" one said. "We're taking you in! You've gone too far!"

The crowd jeered and pushed at them. The soldiers had their hands on their rifles, uncertain what to do. "Brothers and sisters, let us rise up now and march to the Palace!" Ponlar shouted, jumping from his fountain and breaking free of the soldiers' half-hearted, ineffectual attempts to detain him. "Our will cannot be denied."

It'd turn into a riot any second. I swallowed, and jumped in front of Ponlar. I reached out into the man's mind with the Force. "Ponlar! You will stop this! You will go quietly!"

The man's mad eyes clouded, but he stopped walking. "I—I will—I will not!" he said, in a voice that had suddenly fallen from a shout to a murmur. "My cause is just! The Queen must bow to our will!"

Behind him, the crowd had stopped, too. They muttered, shifted. Their concerns for their safety and order began moving to the front of their minds, replacing the mob-madness. I strengthened my grip on Ponlar's mind. "Tell everyone to stop and go home. Now," I hissed.

I held his gaze and prayed it would work.

"My…my head," Ponlar muttered. He turned to the crowd. "Everyone…everyone stop now!" he cried to the mob. Then he walked to the soldiers he had shoved aside before, and surrendered his wrists to be tied. "I will go quietly."

The crowd, muttering more angrily than before, still began to disperse like it had done the first time. One of the soldiers looked at me. "I don't know what you did, off-worlder," he said as his companion secured Ponlar. "But thank you. That was a little too much for me."

The soldiers led the would-be rioter away. Bao-Dur watched them go. "You continually amaze me, General," he said. "A lot of people would've been hurt or worse."

"Your actions have averted disaster here," the Handmaiden agreed. "This was an admirable use of the Jedi teachings."

"We should move on," Kreia said. Whereas Mandalore was impassive, and Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden approved of what I had done, Kreia's disapproval was apparent. She'd wanted things to take their course here, and thought I'd stepped out of my place to interfere. But I couldn't regret what I'd done. Ponlar was a rabble-rouser and an idiot, and the information he had been willing to overthrow the government based upon was faulty. He would have led his mob to grief rioting if I hadn't interfered. I pointedly ignored Kreia, and led the group to the base of the air defense tower the beast-rider at Dhagon's office had told me about.

I'd conversed with Captain Riiken briefly before upon my arrival in the marketplace. He was a frank-faced, plainspoken man with handsome dark skin and an open gaze. "I saw what you did over there, off-worlder," he said as I came up. "It was a brave thing. I'd have helped, but my orders are to guard this tower. If they'd come over here, I would have needed to defend it. Do you have a starport visa? I'd get out of here before things get much worse."

"I have business here, captain," I told him. "Listen, I was told you have a man named Dhagon Ghent in custody?"

"We certainly do. He and several other people were picked up in connection to a murder."

"Yes, of another captain," I said. "Can you tell me anything more specific?"

"The victim was Captain Sullio," Riiken informed me obligingly. "She was in charge of the starport checkpoint. A good soldier. Your friend was one of the last people that saw her alive. So far he's just a suspect. But if he did it, the punishment is death."

Mandalore was standing beside me, and now he said in an undertone, "Dhagon Ghent is the only person I know with the contacts to help you out. We need to get him out of custody."

"How long is Dhagon going to be questioned?" I asked Captain Riiken.

The captain shrugged, indicating the lack of a concrete answer. "Until we either eliminate him as a suspect or find the real killer. Dhagon has quite a record with the authorities. The Colonel thinks that murder isn't too far a stretch for someone like him."

"That would be Colonel Tobin?" The words were out before I knew I'd said them. Riiken's eyes narrowed. "No, leave it. Can I visit Ghent?"

"No way," he said. "We're under orders to make sure no one sees the murder suspects. Command is taking this very seriously."

"Fine then," I ground out. "How can I eliminate him as a suspect?"

The captain's face softened. "Look, I know Dhagon personally," he said. "He's one of the worst doctors I've ever heard of. But I can't see him deliberately killing someone. He was one of the last people seen with Captain Sullio in the cantina. Ask around there. I've heard he's got a good motive for killing her. If you can somehow clear that up and prove that it wasn't him, command will cut him loose." He hesitated. "If I say anymore I'll get in trouble," he told me.

Well the whole mess wasn't his fault. "I don't want that," I said. "Listen, you've been a big help. Thank you, sir. I'll be going now."

"Stay out of trouble," Captain Riiken said with a wave.

I stretched and turned to the others. "Back to the western square then, and to the cantina. But before we start asking around—let's eat."

The cantina in the western square was a comfortable place with a good band and better food, for all that it was in a bad part of town. A Quarren ran a swoop track in one room. Dancers entertained a group of beast-riders in another. A friendly looking Bith served up drinks as fast as you could blink. Discussions about politics were held in civil voices, and the pazaak players were relaxed. Basically the exact opposite of that dive I found you in, Aithne. Hey, I only speak the truth.

Lunch was a good time for me and my friends to relax a little. We agreed to separate for a while, and everyone basically fanned out according to their interests. That meant that Kreia lurked in a back corner, eating little and watching and listening to everyone with a scowl on her face. Bao-Dur went to the room where the swoop-racers mingled to discuss bike modification and design with the regulars. Mandalore ended up talking to a boy-faced pazaak player in the main room.

But the Handmaiden, for her part, stayed near me with her lunch. She picked at her food, stealing glances at me so often that eventually I got tired of it and put down my drink. "Okay. What are you thinking?"

"You are very different from Atris' representation of you," the girl said at once, as if all she'd needed were permission to speak. "I have been watching you, your actions, your battle forms. I cannot believe that you enjoy battle and warfare, from what I have seen. And—I do not believe you are fallen. Lost to the ways of the Force."

"You don't, do you?"

"You are lost, exile," she said. "But I do not believe you are lost the way Atris thinks you are. You walk—you walk the way my father did, when he returned from the Mandalorian Wars, after the death of my mother."

I chewed slowly, and swallowed. "You said before your parents were a subject that required trust. Do you trust me with it, then?"

"I do. If you would like to hear more, I will speak of it," the girl said.

"I'd like to know more about you. The others at the Academy are your half-sisters?"

"Yes. That is correct. Though I share my father's blood with my sisters, I wear the face of my mother. My father was Yusanis, an Echani general."

"Yusanis?" I raised an eyebrow, reevaluating the girl. "He was a hero."

The Handmaiden's face was sad and grave. "He left our family to serve in the Mandalorian Wars. But his choice was not because of battle. He went to join my mother, one whose movements and spirit matched his. His only desire was that they fight together, side by side, for as long as there were enemies amassed against them."

"Who was she?"

"I never saw her face, and she did not return from the final battle of the war," the Handmaiden told me. "She died in the battle that shattered Malachor V and her body was never recovered. My father returned from the Mandalorian Wars and did not enter battle again. He entered politics, a caste where one's battles are fought through words rather than action." Her voice was sad.

"What happened to him?"

"He was slain by Revan in the Jedi Civil War when Revan sought to destabilize the Echani worlds," she said. "She succeeded."

The Echani girl brought her distant gaze back to me then, and raised her chin defiantly. "The fact that our father chose battle is not shameful, but that is not the reason he went to war. He went to war to be with the one he loved, but not the one he had pledged himself to. He was disloyal. I am the mark of that disloyalty. It is said that such things run in the blood, and I have fought long to prove that this is not so. That is why I am different from my sisters. Yet I am pledged to them and to Atris, and I would die before betraying them." She swallowed, and lowered her eyes. "I tell you this in trust, and ask that you not speak of it to others. I only wish you to know."

Her trust touched me. "I will keep your confidence as if I myself were your sister," I promised her. "But why tell me now?"

The Handmaiden seemed to muster all her courage for her reply. "I said before you were lost. I believe you are lost in the way my father was lost after the Wars. When he returned, there was something wounded inside of him. He did not speak of what had happened there, and with us he was silent. Changed. When I look upon you—Darden Leona—I see in you an answer to a question I have searched for all my life. And that is why I tell you this now. I do not believe you to be the monster Atris made you out to be. I believe your choice was my father's choice, and it was just as difficult."

I had been working to change the girl's opinion of me, to straighten out her perspective if I couldn't straighten out her mistress'. But now that she'd begun to doubt Atris at last, I found it didn't make me feel any better at all. In the light of her past, her identification with me was only tragic. "Your father went for love of your mother," I said. "I went out of loyalty to Revan, and a desire to do right. Your father betrayed your sisters' mother, and your sisters. I betrayed the Jedi Order I loved. Do you blame me, last of the Handmaidens? I gave the order that day for the destruction of Malachor V. Had I not done so, your life might have been much easier."

"Malachor V is the place where I lost my mother and father," she replied, "But it was their choice to fight the Mandalorians—and to die there, if Malachor was to be their grave." She looked across the cantina at Kreia and shifted.

"I know that it is difficult for others to see why I am here," she finished, turning back to me, "But it is important to me that you know one of the reasons, and know that it is not simply duty why I am here, but because I want to be here."

"You did come of your own volition, didn't you?" I asked her. "Atris didn't order you along."

The girl looked down. "Atris would wish for you to have aid as you search for the Jedi, as you seek to defeat the Sith."

"Sure, but she didn't think of it. You did."

The Handmaiden blushed pink. I knew she was even more aware of her guilty body language than I was. "My allegiance is to Atris," she said. "To my oath and to my family. But…if in their service I can aid you, can help preserve the Jedi…if I could fight with you, side by side. I want to fight with you, Darden Leona. You are a leader—your stance, your every action proves it every moment. I watch you, and I am amazed, along with the Iridonian."

Her words were like an echo of the vows of the young Jedi I sent to their deaths so many times during the Mandalorian Wars. "So for now, I am to be your General, too?" I asked her softly.

"If you like," she said, smiling a little.

To smile back hurt my heart. "You're so serious. So determined. You remind me of…of the way I was, once upon a time, and of…of so many others."

"Of ones like my mother," she said. "Soldiers that gave their lives for their cause."

"Yes," I admitted. "I enjoy your company, and you're probably the best fighter aboard the _Ebon Hawk_, a huge help. But your loyalty…it's a burden, too."

The Handmaiden knew exactly what burden she placed on me with her trust. "It is often so with leaders, I have heard," she said. "But the soldier makes a choice, as well, to follow. And to serve Atris and the Jedi, by serving you, is mine. Shall we fight together?"

"Yes."

Mandalore called me over then. "If you're done eating, Leona."

I stood, and the Handmaiden followed me over to the pazaak table where Mandalore sat with the boy-faced player. "This is Nikko," Mandalore said. "I've met him before, visiting Dhagon. He was here the night Captain Sullio was murdered."

"Darden," I said, shaking hands with the young man. "You know Dhagon Ghent?"

"Know him? He's probably my best friend on this planet," Nikko said. "Honestly, he's not a very good doctor. But he is a great drinking companion."

"He's been hauled in as a suspect for the murder. Could he have done it?"

Where Mandalore had been ambivalent, and Riiken had indicated the higher-ups' suspicion of Ghent, Nikko was adamant about Ghent's innocence. "Never! Dhagon thought very highly of the good captain. I did, too. She had a sharp wit, that one. Sad to see her go."

"Thanks," I said. "I might be back later."

"Or you could stay a while," Nikko offered. "If you play pazaak, I'm always up for a game. Can I tempt you?"

I looked down at my useless com-link and thought of another pazaak player I knew, not half so polite, but much better-looking than Nikko. A lump formed in my throat, but I forced words past it, and sat at the table. "Sure. But I should warn you—I have a friend that's taught me some stuff. I'm no pushover."

"Neither am I," Nikko said. "Every game, I play to win."

But I won.

After playing Nikko, I started asking around the cantina in earnest for others that had been present the night of Captain Sullio's murder. Bahima the bartender backed Nikko up in his assertion of Sullio and Dhagon Ghent's friendship, as well as his belief that Ghent couldn't possibly be the murderer, but a Twi'lek named Kiph and a beast-rider named Panar had their doubts. Both of them recollected a terrible argument between Sullio and Dhagon the night of the murder. According to the two of them, Sullio had really ripped Ghent up one side and down the other, cussing him out with words the shady Kiph didn't even know.

Time goes by quickly in cantinas like the one in Iziz' western square. It was going on sixteen hundred hours, Iziz time, when a man in the shadows came to my particular attention. He was a nondescript sort of man in fiber armor without tags. He was dressed and postured to fade into the background, but he looked vaguely familiar to me, and he had been staring at me for the past hour.

I went over to him. "What's the deal? You've been staring at me this past hour."

"General Darden Leona, isn't it?" he said, smiling faintly.

Bao-Dur, nearby, heard my name and came over, hand on his vibrosword, ready for another bounty hunter. But the guy didn't seem hostile.

"Who wants to know?" I asked slowly.

"I served in the Mandalorian Wars with you," the man said. "Xaart. I was one of the ground troops. We fought on Dagary Minor together. It was near the beginning of the war. We, uh, we didn't win that battle."

I relaxed. "No," I said sadly.

"Enough of the past," Xaart said. "I was watching you because you shouldn't be here. The whole galaxy isn't safe for Jedi now. Especially here. Onderon has suffered through three wars started by fallen Jedi. Do you still serve the Republic?"

"No," I admitted. "I haven't even been in it for the last ten years. But I've just come back, and I've started to try to help out where I can."

"That's the first good news I've had in months," Xaart said. He leaned forward, and began speaking much more quickly and quietly. "I was sent by the Republic Senate to investigate certain delicate matters that are happening on Onderon. It's worse than we feared. I have to get to Coruscant to deliver my report. But days before I was planning to leave, they started requiring starport visas."

"What were you doing here?"

"I really can't say. The most I will say is stay clear of General Vaklu. His ambition knows no bounds," Xaart warned. "I believe the people of Onderon are absolutely correct: a civil war is brewing. And Vaklu may very well win if I can't get to Coruscant in time."

"You won't make it on a ship bound for Coruscant," I said. "Vaklu's men are stalling any Republic vessels they can, and all outbound passengers are double and triple checked. A non-mercantile passenger bound for Coruscant would raise a dozen red flags. It'd be faster and easier to get to Telos, and there's a Republic representative there, if your report is urgent."

"Thanks for the tip. The journey to Coruscant would be more costly and attract more attention," Xaart agreed. "But there are many freighters bound for Telos. But it still won't matter if I can't get an open starport visa."

I rummaged in my pack. "I've got an extra that belonged to a bounty hunter that attacked me," I said, keeping my voice low. Two other people in the cantina had expressly told me they were looking for visas, and I knew there might be more. "If I can find someone that knows how to slice it open, I'll give it to you."

Xaart looked around. "Helping me is not without its risks," he muttered. "I know you have Jedi training, so you can probably handle it. But I may be being watched. If—if that would compromise your mission, perhaps we should go our separate ways."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Compromise my mission? I'm more likely to compromise yours. The entire galaxy thinks I'm a Jedi, remember? But if you want my help, I can act quickly."

Xaart agreed that if I could slice open the visa, it would be much appreciated. Kiph had hinted darkly enough about his profession that I knew he was the one to see. But I waited, so the people in the cantina didn't take notice and start talking. So instead I walked with Bao-Dur to the swoop office. I talked with the Quarren that ran the swoop races. I talked to Bahima the bartender. I talked to two or three of the racers about upgrades and tracks and fans on Onderon. I talked long enough to people that didn't matter about things that didn't matter that everyone who might have seen me talking to Xaart and might have thought it strange would dismiss and forget about it. Then I went over to Kiph, and gave him 500 credits and the visa I'd retrieved from the bounty hunter.

Kiph went upstairs while my companions and I ate supper. When he came down, he handed me an open starport visa. I checked my chrono, and looked over the table we'd obtained at Mandalore. "Going on twenty hundred hours," I said. "We should get a room here. We can do more in the morning—maybe ask Nikko why Kiph and Panar say Sullio hated Dhagon Ghent and find out more. But for now—"

"I'll get on it," Mandalore said, taking the credits I offered him to Bahima to get a room. Kreia went with him, presumably to make sure the room was up to her standards.

"Don't stay too close," I murmured to the Handmaiden and Bao-Dur. "I don't want to attract too much attention when I go back and talk to Xaart."

The Handmaiden obediently edged away toward Nikko. Bao-Dur took up a position near the beast-riders' room, but close enough that he could hear me when I talked to Xaart. I left the table we had been sitting at, and meandered in as aimless a manner as I could until I was sitting at a table next to Xaart's, instead. I then ordered another drink.

"Good to see you again," Xaart muttered, low enough that he wouldn't be heard over the music and the hum of conversation by most bystanders. "Any luck with the visa?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I laid the visa on the table and slid it forward.

"You got an open starport visa in hours!" Xaart whispered, incredulous. "I've been looking for one for weeks! Thanks! You've done a tremendous service for the Republic. Now I have to catch the first shuttle out of here. May the Force be with you!"

"Wait!" I hissed. "Unless you want tails seeing I've given you something! In two minutes, I will get up and leave the visa. Five minutes after that, you take it, and ten minutes after that, you can leave. Got it?"

Xaart nodded, and turned away. I took a drink, and did the same. Two minutes later, I got up and left, still watching the table to make sure no one else took the visa.

I joined Bao-Dur. The two of us stood together for fifteen minutes, until Xaart had safely taken possession of the starport visa and left the cantina. "I wonder what his mission was," Bao-Dur murmured. "You may have just helped the Republic considerably."

Mandalore came in then, beckoning us and the Handmaiden. We regrouped. "We've got a room," Mandalore said. "Had to pay a little extra so the amenities would satisfy your friend, but it'll do us until tomorrow."

I thanked him, and we all went upstairs.

I couldn't get to sleep that night. Honestly, it wasn't surprising. At nearly twenty four hundred hours, the music was still pulsing beneath the floor from the cantina below our room.

It didn't seem to bother Mandalore, though. He was snoring. I'd heard him take off his armor, but he'd retreated behind the partition Kreia had insisted upon to divide the men and women of our party. So I couldn't see the face of the man that wore the mask of Mandalore. I didn't really want to, though. He was helping me, seemed ready enough to be friends, and I'd decided that I would treat him like the Handmaiden. Potentially dangerous, but to be treated with courtesy and returned friendship until he demonstrated that I should treat him otherwise.

The Handmaiden was sleeping, too. It was much warmer in Iziz than in the arctic academy in which I'd found her, so she'd kicked aside the quilt, and slept covered only by a sheet.

Even Kreia had stopped meditating half an hour before and lay down on a cot. I didn't know if she was sleeping yet or not. Bao-Dur wasn't making a noise behind the partition, so I assumed he was asleep, too.

But I couldn't, and it wasn't all the music or Mandalore's snoring. Or even mostly the music or Mandalore's snoring. I sat on the window seat looking out over Iziz. Several lights were on in the houses and building of this town. At nearly midnight, there were more than there should be. I could almost taste the tension in the air, like an acrid, metallic burn. Civil war, Xaart had said. I had a nasty, horrible feeling that despite the riot I'd averted in the market that day, the looming civil war would break out before I left Onderon, and that I'd be the excuse it used to do so. I never seek war, Aithne, and I never sought it. I didn't want any trouble, but it had pursued me ever since I'd woken on Peragus.

I knew what happened on Onderon would set the entire Republic trembling. If Onderon fell, so did the Telos I had tried to help build. The irony of it, I though, was that if I'd just put Czerka in power two weeks prior, Onderon's resources wouldn't perhaps be quite as crucial to the Restoration Project's success. Since I had sided with the Ithorians, however, the secession of Onderon and its resources from the Republic would cripple the project. Without those resources, Telos would remain barren, and so would the other planets under review for restoration. It wouldn't stop there, though. If other war-torn worlds like Onderon followed her example and sought independence, war would just keep breeding war.

War itself is hell, but surviving is its own problem. That night, I felt very alone. I remembered all the fellow Jedi-soldiers, underlings like the Handmaiden's mother that I had condemned to their deaths with a nod. I remembered Alek, whose death ended the Jedi Civil War. I remembered you, gone who knew where. I remembered the other Jedi, the ones that hadn't fought. For all I knew then, they were all dead.

I knew that if I succeeded in freeing Dhagon Ghent, it still wouldn't guarantee that he'd be able to find Master Kavar. There was no guarantee I'd be able to find any of the lost Jedi. That night, it seemed to me that I might really be the last one, the last burning ember of a dying fire, and a damned pathetic one at that.

I looked at the Handmaiden and Kreia, listened to Mandalore's snoring. I wondered if my companions would be extinguished when the darkness came for me at last, and I found there was no plan, nowhere left to run. I'd unclipped my com-link, and now I held it in my hand, turning it over and over and over. I was terrified that perhaps they were dying already, or had died already, and I didn't even know.

Whatever Atton said, I knew he hadn't wanted to be involved in my mess. He wanted to help _me_, but that wasn't the same thing. He still talked frequently enough about all the places we could go to hide from the Sith, evade the bounty hunters. He wanted to protect me, but he didn't want my private war with the Sith, and it wouldn't be fair in the least if that war had killed him.

I didn't know why he wanted to protect me. Most of the time, I thought it was just sex. Figured he was playing the long game to get something I couldn't give. But sometimes, Aithne, I had wondered if maybe Atton felt an attraction to me that went beyond physicality, and those times, I was more uncomfortable than I was hearing his worst innuendo, or even frightened.

But I hadn't been able to definitively shut him down. I hadn't been able to tell Atton that if he was sticking around because he had some sort of expectation, sexual or otherwise, it'd be a good idea to follow his survival instinct and get lost. I didn't want Atton gone. And I really, really didn't want him dead. I looked out the window, praying he was alright. Despite the way he'd joked about me being crushed that I wouldn't be able to contact him, I found I _did_ miss him, though I hardly knew why. And the worry was eating a hole in my stomach.

A sound interrupted my morose ponderings. Bao-Dur came out from behind the partition. The light from the window showed the shadows under his eyes that told me that he hadn't been able to fall asleep, either. He saw me sitting at the window, and came to sit beside me.

"Can't sleep, General?" he asked, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the ones that could.

"I'm not the only one."

Bao-Dur looked out over Iziz. "Having you here has an effect on me," he said after a moment. "I never noticed it years ago. I think my mind was too occupied, then."

"What do you mean?"

"This planet is crazy," Bao-Dur said flatly. "Everything that's going on is crazy. But I don't know. I feel…calm. More in control. Listening to you talk, watching you work, things are starting to make sense to me. The anger is still there, but I can feel it drifting away. The last years of my life have been defined by it—the Mandalorians. Czerka. Revan. And above all else, myself, for Malachor."

I dismissed my own worries to focus on Bao-Dur's. "I gave the order," I reminded him softly.

"I never hated you, General," Bao-Dur told me. "Never. It had to be done. But my hands destroyed the Mandalorians—and so many of our own soldiers. I cannot be forgiven for that."

I could feel Bao-Dur's confusion and remorse roiling through the Force. I reached out and tried to smooth the turbulence, both with the Force and with my words. "There was a Jedi, once. Ulic Qel-Droma. He turned and waged war on the Republic. But he repented, and was forgiven. Revan, too. I wasn't there, but they say they forgave her. If the two of them can be forgiven for nearly destroying the Republic, you can certainly be forgiven for saving it."

"Even if I did it out of hatred for the Mandalorians?" Bao-Dur challenged me.

"Except you didn't," I said. "Not really. You were angry because of the worlds you saw the Mandalorians destroy. You wanted to prevent that happening again. You wanted to protect us all." Bao-Dur's aura was light clear through. I sensed the truth of my words. "I couldn't have said that before," I told him. "But now that I've gotten to know you, I'm sure that's why you did it."

Bao-Dur wouldn't meet my eyes. "That might be the truth, but I don't want to see it that way. I can't just ignore the blood on my hands."

I leaned forward. "Look at me! Moving past the blood on your hands isn't the same as ignoring it. Bao-Dur, I think you—I think both of us—have been living in the past for far too long. We can't change what happened then. We can't change what we did. But now—we're doing something good. We have the power, right now, to help rebuild the Republic. To help save the Jedi from the Sith. To make the galaxy a better place."

"Maybe you do, General, but do I? If I could do something—help make up for what I did—"

I reached out with the Force, evaluating, sensing. I felt that the time was right to tell him what I'd observed in him. "Bao-Dur, can I tell you something?"

"Anything, General."

"The way you have of building and fixing machines, of understanding the galaxy through circuits and chips. It's not just extraordinary talent, though it is that. It's the Force, working through you. I've seen it, these past two weeks. More and more. I'm still relearning to sense the Force, to wield it myself, but if you want to do something, want to help me help the Jedi, there is something you can do."

It was a revolutionary idea, totally crazy. But the Force led me to believe I was right, that out of the chaos and the war, it would be my part to make sure that the war didn't lead to destruction, didn't breed further war, but that out of it came peace, came something beautiful.

"I was thinking," I said slowly, heart pounding, "That the Jedi Order is dying. But it doesn't have to die. We can—we can restart the Jedi Order right here, right now. You and me. I can train you, I think—show you how to use the Force and find peace, and wield it to protect and heal the galaxy. If you want."

Bao-Dur was silent a long moment His emotions churned. Gratitude. Yearning. Incredulity. And for the first time in a long time, hope. "Under your guidance, I feel I could overcome my anger. General—I'd like that."

"Then close your eyes," I told him. "Last night, I opened my mind to yours and felt the Force in you, and I felt your respond. Can you feel me now, Bao-Dur? Reach out with your feelings."

Bao-Dur went very still. "I can—"

**General?**

** Yes. This is me. This is you. This is us. This is the Force.**

** Teach me what to do.**

* * *

_ "The Jedi we knew are all gone, but the Jedi will be fine," Aithne said, slowly starting to grin. "I wondered how that could be, and now I know. Force, the nerve, Darden! Starting a brand new Order even though they kicked you out! You know, I think I just might love you. And you didn't stop with Bao-Dur, either, did you? That Echani girl—she could feel the Force, too. Did you train her? How many were there when you left the Republic?"_

_ Darden held up a hand. "It's too soon to say if it'll really take, you know. I'm not sure if I was a good teacher, and all of the students I taught have a long way to go and a lot on their plates."_

_ "You've stared war in the face, broken your heart into pieces over and over, walked in the Dark and into nothingness, and yet refused to relinquish your mind or soul," Aithne said firmly. "That makes you a damn sight more qualified to train Jedi than most of the Council I knew or have heard of."_

_ Darden smiled at the praise. "I do have high hopes," she admitted. "When I left to find you, there were just five new Jedi, but I've received transmissions since that report that once again the Jedi are searching out Younglings. A few prospectives have even been found. Parts of the temple on Coruscant have been reopened. We've reestablished contact with the Senate. And their leader now that I've stepped down from the position is much more qualified to build peace and trust than I am. Once I return to the Republic, I plan to help him."_

_ Aithne had been radiant, like a star. Now her smile faded and she stopped bouncing in excitement, but her gaze intensified. Darden could almost hear her thinking, even without the Force. "To help build a more grounded Order, a realistic one, a truly rather than nominally compassionate one that acknowledges rather than whitewashes the gray areas, but still chooses Light. I left it to Jolee before. I couldn't see how I could ever forgive the Jedi for what they did to me, or get past my past enough to…but you said, you said 'moving past the blood on our hands isn't the same as ignoring it.'"_

_ "No," Darden said. "It's impossible to forget, and indefensible to ignore or justify, but moving on is possible. Good, even."_

_ Darden felt hope strain with disbelief in Aithne, saw it in her face. But all Aithne said was, "It's something to think about as you continue, at least. Did you get Ghent off and find Kavar?"_

_ "I did, actually," Darden said. "Here's how it happened…_

* * *

**A/N: Since vienna logan doesn't have an account, I reply to them here. Thanks for your review! I can see from the stats that people are reading, but it largely feels like I'm uploading chapters into the void, and I can't improve as a writer that way! I take all my criticisms into consideration throughout the continual process of writing and revising. **

**I'm glad you're enjoying the story! There will definitely be more chapters devoted to Aithne/Darden interaction in the present, some more detailing of their shared (though mostly forgotten by Aithne) past, and even some Aithne interaction with some characters that have not yet been introduced in the story's present (a year after the events in the story Darden is telling). **

**However, I would like to say to vienna logan, and anyone else that wants more of Aithne Morrigan, that this is primarily Darden's story. It's being told to Aithne, and has an impact on her life, but it will be mostly Darden. However, I did write a previous novelization that follows Aithne entirely, depicting the events of KotOR I. It's entitled _The Edge of Light and Dark_, and you can find it in my profile. So if you'd like to get to know Aithne better, you can hop on over there and take a look! **

**vienna logan, I applaud your determination persisting to read my English story, and your facility with English despite the fact that it isn't your native language. Well done! I'd like to ask if anyone else is having trouble with the length of the chapters? Though they were deliberately arranged in 5-chapter and 3-chapter arcs, thematically laid out, I could attempt to restructure if this was a more universal criticism, whether other readers had difficulties with the length because of similar linguistic barriers or because of time constraints. **

**Tell me what you think, readers! I promise I'm listening!**

**Coming 6/5: As Darden details her violent and abrupt departure from Onderon and a decision Canderous made following, Aithne tells Darden a little about her old friend and his multiple allegiances.**

**And 6/8: Things get intense as Darden's retelling of a Sith defection brings up discussion of loyalty, friendship, and the limits of trust. As evening turns to night, the **_**Ebon Hawk**_**, worried at Darden's long absence, contacts her over the com-link.**


	17. XV

**Disclaimer: Consider the following disclaimed.**

* * *

XV.

High Politics

_"I'd had maybe three hours of sleep when the sounds of people waking up woke me up, too. I rose from the small, lumpy cot, feeling much more optimistic than I had the night before. The sun streamed through the window, tinting the whole room gold. I could feel Bao-Dur's presence through the Force. He was at peace, in awe, basking in the wonder of the Force, for the first time open to him. _

Kreia could feel it, too. "What have you done?"-

I was washing my face. As soon as I'd finished, I replied, "Bao-Dur can feel the Force. It flows through him. I'm going to teach him how to use it. I've already started."

I intentionally left no room for argument. Honestly, Aithne, I think it's one of the only times I actually managed to surprise Kreia that whole year. I could feel her perception of me changing, rapidly, like a machine recalibrating. She gaped.

"It is not how it was done," she finally managed. "You are far beyond the age of an apprentice, your paths set," she told Bao-Dur. "If you do this, you will have to unlearn nearly everything you have learned over a lifetime."

Bao-Dur was repacking his things. "I'm already starting to do that, just following Darden. If the General can help me to understand what I feel, to use it to help heal and protect—it would be good. That's what I want."

"This breaks with all tradition, all convention," Kreia said. That is of course, why she accepted it then. "But this is an untraditional, an unconventional time." She inclined her head regally, and for the moment, that seemed to be the end of it for her.

It wasn't the end of it for the Handmaiden. "Atris would not approve of this," she said frostily. "You were sent to find Jedi who had left the Order, not to train new ones. Do you really think yourself capable of training another in the Jedi ways, Exile?"

"What's this? I thought you were calling me by my name now. You did yesterday." I was a little hurt.

"The General is the most capable person I've ever known," Bao-Dur said calmly.

"I'm not," I disagreed. "And if you have too much faith in me, Bao-Dur, you will inevitably be disappointed, and may even fall to the Dark Side. I may very well prove to be a very imperfect teacher." Now I addressed both Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden. "But the Force cannot be denied. Wherever it is felt, it must be acknowledged, and I feel this must be done. I pray only that I be granted the grace to guide where I lack."

I felt the Handmaiden soften, and she bowed. "I apologize…Darden. I did promise to follow your lead. I will stand beside you in this."

"One day—not yet—I may speak more with you about this," I said to her.

The girl shivered, a leaf in an autumnal wind. She knew what I meant, what it would mean for her when we did speak. Bao-Dur hadn't felt the Force in himself before I had pointed it out to him, but the Handmaiden knew she was Force Sensitive, or at least suspected as much.

Kreia seemed displeased by this, though, and would have said something, but Mandalore interrupted. He came out from behind the partition, fully dressed in his armor once again. "These Jedi proceedings are all well and good. But they're not going to get Dhagon Ghent out of detention so he can help you. Unless you no longer need to get in touch with your Jedi Master friend?"

"No, we still need to find Master Kavar," I told him. "We can talk about all this later, when we're done with what we're doing now." I gestured for my companions to precede me downstairs.

The morning cantina is an entirely different thing from the bustling establishment of the evening. Bahima's bar was pretty much deserted. The Bith himself manned the bar already, though, and Nikko was in the main room, where the professional gambler would stay all day playing pazaak.

I ordered breakfast from Bahima and went to sit across from Nikko.

"Good morning," he said. "My deck is still warm, if you're up for pazaak."

I nodded and started to deal. "Sure am. So. Last night I was talking to some of the other people who were in here the night Captain Sullio was murdered. Kiph and Panar? They were saying that she was pretty harsh to Dhagon Ghent that night. Tearing him to pieces. That's a pretty good motive for him to kill her."

Nikko laid down his first card and the game began. He shook his head. "Oh, no, by the four moons what a mix up! They got it all wrong. Dhagon and Sullio were good friends. It's just when they got a little too much juma juice, they'd carry on. They'd call each other all manner of things. It could get quite hilarious, really. But it was just friendly banter."

Bahima laid down my breakfast, and I looked over the cards. Nikko had busted with twenty-one, and I was standing at nineteen. "Mmm. Pazaak."

"Dammit!" Nikko began the next hand. "That night, Sullio was in great form," he continued. "Dhagon and I were laughing about some of the choicer ones later. 'Yellow toothed dung dweller,' heh heh. We bought her a couple of drinks afterwards. It may look strange on the outside, but it was just their habit, their way of passing the time during these dark nights. Listen, if the soldiers think that's a motive, they just didn't do enough digging. Pazaak."

I sipped my fruit juice and ate a bite of breakfast. Mandalore was leaning up against the next table over. He spoke up. "That information will help with clearing Dhagon, but the Onderon military won't let him off that easy. They're very obstinate. Maybe some of these people will know more about what happened that night."

I played my +5 card to get my total to twenty. "Okay, Nikko. My friend's right. If Dhagon didn't kill Sullio, did you see what did happen that night? Pazaak, by the way."

"I was cleaning up stakes from a particularly rewarding pazaak game—not like this one: it looks like you're going to clean me out again. I heard a loud sound outside. I grabbed my blaster and went out the door. When I got out I saw Captain Sullio. She was quite dead. Blood was everywhere. I heard a noise and saw Dhagon Ghent coming from his office across the courtyard. We both waited for the authorities to get there. The next day they picked up Dhagon and several other people in the area. It's crazy to think he did it. Sullio was our friend."

"Where did you find the body?"

"Just outside the door by the junk heap."

"It might be a good idea to take a look at the crime scene," suggested Mandalore. "We fought many soldiers in the Mandalorian Wars. The Onderonians were certainly brave, but they were disorganized and stupid. I wouldn't be surprised if they overlooked something."

I wolfed down the last bite of my breakfast. "Right," I said, standing. "Come on, then."

I reached for my cards, and Nikko blinked. I'd got pazaak yet again and won the game. "Wait, friend! Your credits! Oh, cards are a fickle friend at best."

I just hoisted my pack up. "Keep 'em, Nikko. It was fun. Thanks for the game. And the information. I might come back later."

I rounded up the others, and together, we left the cantina. The sun was a little bright after hours in the dimly lit building. The junk heap Nikko had mentioned was just to the right, and there were traces of dried blood still left from where Sullio had been killed a few days ago. I knelt and rooted through the trash. There was nothing. No blasters, stims, recordings, or any clue of any kind. There was just a lot of broken glass and half-eaten food. I wrinkled my nose and stood. Taking out my canteen, I poured water over my hands. Then I saw the droid chassis.

It was a serving droid, complete with serving tray. It was missing its head and several other components, but it had obviously only been there a few days. The wires hadn't oxidized yet.

Mandalore said what I was thinking. "Nobody we talked with mentioned a droid. This droid was destroyed recently. Someone inside the cantina might know more."

"It's been scavenged," I remarked. "Our best bet might be the beast-riders. They seem to move half in the underground."

I turned just in time to see Panar, a swoop-racing beast-rider I'd talked with the day before about the murder, just heading into the cantina. I bounded up to him and caught him just inside the door. "Panar—there was a scavenged serving droid. Just over there. At the site of Captain Sullio's murder."

Panar sneered. "That Bith keep buying droids, and the scavengers keep stealing them or blowing them up. Seems he's finally given up." He looked away from me at the waitress, who'd just come into work. She was a curvy sort of blonde with a vapid expression. Panar ogled her posterior, and leered. "The waitress is awful, but she's more fun than his droids ever were." He started to go, but I stopped him.

"Any idea which scavenger got to the latest droid?"

"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew," Panar snorted. "Could tell you where you could find the parts, though," he conceded.

"Then please do."

Panar hiked his thumb toward the cantina door. "That western square has the perfect fence for droid parts," he informed me. "There's a droid vendor called 1B-8D. That droid is as dumb as a Gamorrean. He'll buy anything 'cause he's too stupid to do anything else. IB-8D is quite handy. Quite a few of the slum dwellers make a good living salvaging parts for him. You might've even bought some."  
He moved to head off again.

"Thanks," I called after him.

"Don't mention it," he said over his shoulder. "Just scram."

My companions and I set off across the square again. Just like Panar had said, 1B-8D did have serving droid parts. In fact, he had a head that looked like it just might be from the droid I'd found near the scene of Captain Sullio's murder. I paid him 25 credits for it, then tossed the head to Bao-Dur.

He caught it. "The head's where the memory core of a droid like this is, right? See what you can get from it."

"Of course, General. This'll just take a minute—"he tinkered with the wires in the droid head, then smiled. "You'll want to see this. Here—it's his last visual feed. From the night of the murder."

I stood next to Bao-Dur and watched the feed on the tiny maintenance screen Bao-Dur had pulled out of the droid head. The recording showed the droid looking down at the body of Captain Sullio, just beginning to bleed, then up at the feet of the murderer. The droid had been shot before he could look at the murderer's face, but I could still definitely tell that the murderer had come from the marketplace, not Dhagon Ghent's office in the opposite direction. "We have to show this to Nikko," I said. "He can testify that it wasn't Dhagon. Come on."

I barreled back into the cantina and up to Nikko's table. "Hey—take a look at this recording," I said, tossing the droid head at him. "It proves that Dhagon Ghent didn't murder Sullio!"

Nikko caught the head. "If it'll help Dhagon, you got it."

He watched the recording. "There's no way Dhagon could've done it!" Nikko said after he'd seen it. "I saw him coming from his office. That's the opposite direction from the marketplace. We should go talk to Captain Riiken and clear all this up."

Captain Riiken was somewhat bemused when six people marched up to his tower. He resituated his blaster in its holster.

"No need for that," I laughed. "We come in peace."

"What brings you here, then, off-worlders? And Nikko, is it?"

"Dhagon Ghent couldn't have killed Captain Sullio," I said firmly.

Captain Riiken had been hoping we'd clear Ghent's name. But he said, "That's a bold statement. I assume you have some sort of proof."

I bowed. "Nikko can explain."

The professional gambler did so. He related Sullio and Dhagon's friendship, how he himself had been the primary witness to the murder and had found the body, how he'd seen Dhagon coming from his office right after, and how I'd found the recording that proved the murderer had come from the opposite direction. To conclude, he showed Captain Riiken the feed.

"That should do it," Captain Riiken agreed. "We still don't know who killed Captain Sullio, but this will greatly assist our investigation."

Just then, a wrinkle-faced old man wearing major's decorations with a noble, haughty bearing strode up. "Captain! This is the second time you have been seen with unofficial persons discussing military affairs! You have been ordered off this investigation. I hope you can explain yourself."

Captain Riiken held up his hands. "I had nothing to do with this, sir," He gestured at me. "This citizen found information about Captain Sullio's murder. It's material to the investigation."

"We've already got our man," the major retorted. "Sullio and this Ghent were fighting the night she was murdered. He had ample motive."

Mandalore snorted and muttered something that might have been 'sloppy.' I spoke over him hastily. "They were teasing one another, not fighting, sir. Regulars in the cantina can vouch for that, and for their friendship."

The major turned the full force of his irritation on me. "Have you read the report?" he demanded. "Some of the things Sullio called him were vile. Sullio and Dhagon clearly hated each other."

"They were friends teasing one another," I repeated. "For fun. Friends do that. They just took it to an extreme."

The major swelled up like an angry Hutt. "You expect me to bel—"

Nikko interrupted. "It's absolutely true, major," he said. "I was a friend of both of them. They've done this dozens of times. Bahima the bartender can confirm it. As well as half a dozen other people. They were an odd pair, but they certainly didn't hate each other."

The major deflated. He cast around, then said, "I see. Well…there's still the fact that he was right there at the scene of the crime."

"That's true," I agreed. "Nikko saw him come from his office. After he found Sullio already dead outside the cantina." I kept my tone calm, but firm.

The major swelled up again. "The only thing that matters to me is that he was within blaster range when Sullio was killed," he snapped. "And! He did not have an alibi," he added with the air of one who has sustained a great triumph.

"You want an alibi? Dhagon Ghent came from his office. Nikko will testify," I retorted. "But I found a recording that proves that the murder shot came from the opposite direction."

The major paled and looked suddenly nervous. "You have a recording? I'm sure you're just misinterpreting it."

"I've seen it myself, major," Captain Riiken put in. "Nikko isn't the only one that spotted Dhagon coming from his office. It really can't be Dhagon Ghent. The real killer is still loose."

The major hesitated, looking very unhappy. But finally he nodded curtly. "Very well, captain. Set Ghent free, then." He drew himself up and added, "But if later it turns out that he did do it, it's going to be on your head." He stalked away, Onderonian cape billowing behind him.

Captain Riiken gestured to a soldier next to him, and the soldier entered the tower. "The men will get to work on releasing Dhagon Ghent right away," he said. "The major sure isn't happy. You handled that just right, off-worlder. Dhagon owes you a great deal." He nodded at Nikko. "You, too, Nikko."

"I'm just glad I could help, captain," Nikko said. He shook my hand. "Thank you, friend. See you around, I hope."

He set off toward the cantina again, but I stayed. "The major really didn't want to believe Dhagon was innocent," I said to Riiken.

"This investigation has been handled at the highest levels," Riiken murmured. "I've heard that there's been some…concern about that. With Dhagon free, I don't know if the investigation team will find another suspect. They haven't been as diligent as other investigators."

He eyed me meaningfully. "But you have several other suspects in custody," I objected. "You mean they were just rounded up? And what about Ghent? Was there some other reason the authorities wanted him off the streets?"

Riiken opened his mouth, then closed it, changing his mind. "I'm not going to say any more. Probably said too much already. If you head over to Dhagon Ghent's office, some men will bring him there shortly. Thanks for clearing the whole thing up. I could tell that justice wasn't being served. But we all have our orders." To himself he added, "We really need to patrol that sector better."

He waved me off, and looking wearily over at the others, we started back toward the western square. Again.

Dhagon Ghent's 'doctor's' office was an absolute travesty, Aithne. The instruments lay on a table that had obviously been used for eating, too. They were dirty with rust spots and what looked like dried blood. The floor was dirty, the operating table was dusty, and the lighting was poor. The Handmaiden went over to a cot where a sheet was draped over a man and stared.

"Darden—this man appears to be missing his head. Mandalorian, are you sure this—doctor—can be trusted?"

Mandalore chuckled darkly. "I wouldn't go to him to make me better unless I were desperate, kid, but he can drink, and he knows people. He's a friend."

The shelves had been rummaged through, and the glass from the broken window was still on the floor. "Looks like the place has been looted," I remarked. "Wonder if he'll want to talk to us at all."

"We have done him a service," Kreia said. "The least this physician can do is offer us five minutes of his time to hear us."

There were footsteps outside. A gruff voice spoke up. "Yeah, yeah. I can open my own damn door, thank you _very_ much."

Someone else laughed. "You take care of yourself, old man. See you in the cantina next week."

The door opened, and a man walked in. Dhagon Ghent was tall and thin, with dark, cold eyes and a thin, sarcastic mouth. It was hard to estimate his age, because his head was clean shaven, but I guessed perhaps mid-fifties. His clothes were none-too-fresh, but then, I reasoned, the man had been in jail for at least two days.

He saw us, and folded his arms. "Hello, Mandalore. They told me you were mixed up in this. Who're your friends?"

"This is Darden Leona," Mandalore said, gesturing at me. "These others are Bao-Dur, Kreia, and—I never did catch _your_ name, girl," he added to the Handmaiden.

The Handmaiden looked out the window and didn't answer. "She doesn't use one," I explained. "Thinks it encourages her to think of herself when she's devoted her life to the service of others. It's ridiculous, but also kind of inspiring, to tell the truth. If you talk to her, she'll answer to 'Handmaiden.'"

Dhagon looked the girl over. "Echani, eh? Weirdos, the lot of them. Strange company you keep, Mandalore."

"Strange times," Mandalore answered. "Leona here did most of the work getting you off, though."

"Thanks for getting me out of there," Dhagon said to me. "As detention cells go, it had definite class. But I prefer being out on my own all the same. I owe you and Mandalore one."

"Yeah, well, you didn't do it. Do you have any idea who actually killed Captain Sullio?"

Dhagon shrugged. "No, and at this point I don't care. She wasn't bad to look at, and she could drink, but she's gone now. And I'm just glad to be free."

His callousness made me a little uncomfortable, so I decided to change the subject. "This place is kind of a mess. It looks like someone robbed you while you were out."

Dhagon Ghent cast a cool eye over the room. "Looks like it," he said, relaxed. "Although it pretty much looked like this to begin with."

The Handmaiden made a small noise of disgust. "Really?" I asked. "This is an operating room."

"A little dirt never killed anyone," Dhagon said. "Well, maybe a few people. But they didn't pay too well, so they got what they deserved. I give my customers a menu of options. If they go for the deluxe, I'll clean up the place and put on a new smock. Otherwise, they knew the risks."

"Don't you call them patients?" Bao-Dur asked.

"Patients, customers, idiotic Hutt spawn…call them what you like," Dhagon said, leaning up against his wall. "Most doctors tell you that they got into the business to save lives. Most of them are flaming liars. At least I'll tell you the truth. I'm in it for the credits."

I couldn't really help laughing. Dhagon Ghent was so utterly at home with his sordidness. It was a little disgusting, but a little hilarious, too. I could see why Mandalore liked the plain-spoken man. "Well. You won't get my credits next time I'm wounded on Onderon, Ghent. So how do you know Mandalore, Ghent?"

Ghent glanced over at Mandalore. "We go way back. Way before he became Mandalore. In my experience Mandalorians always know about the doctors around. For some strange reason they keep getting into scrapes. If you want to know more, ask him yourself."

He wasn't going to reveal anything Mandalore hadn't already told me, and I respected it. "I might do that, someday," I told him. "Anyway, he said you could help me out. I need to get in touch with someone, probably in the palace."

Ghent went over to his looted shelves, and started looking around on them. "Not many people can help you out with that. There've been several assassination attempts on Queen Talia. That place is locked tighter than a Hutt's vault."

I kicked the leg of the table I was leaning up against. Of course the political climate would make things difficult. "All hail General Vaklu," I muttered. Mandalore, who was closest, let out a dry laugh.

"I know a few people, though," Ghent told me. "Who do you need to get in touch with?"

"All right, I'll come clean. There's a Jedi Master I think is in the palace. I need to talk to him."

Dhagon was still rummaging around in what remained of his stuff. "A Jedi Master, you say? Now that is interesting. There's quite a bounty on Jedi these days."

I stiffened, and Dhagon glanced back at me, smiling sarcastically. "I'm not looking to collect," he told me. "But if there's a Master at the palace, I think I know who it is."

"Really? Tell me about him," I asked, a bit too quickly.

"I'm not certain, otherwise I'd tell you," Dhagon said. "But the man I'm thinking of is smart, likes to stay in the shadows, and is as cryptic as hell. If he isn't a Jedi Master, he should become one."

"Can you get a message to him?"

Dhagon's mouth quirked. "There's a slight problem with that," he said. "I know you don't want to hear that, since you did go to all the trouble of springing me out. The thing is—"he gestured to his shelves. "The stuff the scavengers stole—most of it's garbage, so I don't care too much. But I did have a couple of encrypted holodiscs that they nabbed. So here's the punch line. I need those discs because they have some contact information on them. The people I know you don't just walk up to and chat with. There's a procedure. And those holodiscs have the procedure."

"You need them back," I sighed. "Got it. Do you have anything for me to go on?"

"Bakkel's gang pretty much owns this street," Ghent said, referring to the leader of the local beast-rider thugs. "I bet she's the one that cleaned me out. She's in the local cantina most days. She's tough as drexl leather and more dangerous than an angry Wookiee. If you take Mandalore with you, though, you should be just fine. Get me the encrypted holodiscs, and if there is a Jedi Master in the palace, I'll get you a meeting with him."

"One more hurdle, then," I said to my companions. "Come on. Let's go."

I'll keep what happened next short, Aithne, as it's not terribly relevant. Bakkel didn't want to give up the holodiscs. There was some insults, some fighting, and in the end me and my friends got thrown out of the cantina. But not before we'd stolen Ghent's holodiscs back, and nabbed Bakkel's open starport visa in the bargain. Mostly because she'd pissed me off.

I took the starport visa to a family in the marketplace—a widow and her young children seeking to flee Onderon before the civil war, and start a new life.

My companions and I picked up lunch at a marketplace stall, and then we returned to Ghent's office.

The headless body was gone, at least. Ghent was eating his meal, too, carving his meat up with his scalpel. I felt for a moment like I might puke, but Mandalore just laughed.

Dhagon Ghent chewed. "Big to-do in the cantina an hour or so back," he remarked. "Did you get the encrypted holodiscs? I won't be able to get ahold of my contact from the palace without 'em."

I retrieved the discs from my pack and slid them over his table. "Yeah. Here."

"Great going, there," Dhagon said, finishing his food and leaving dirty dish and scalpel on the table. He stood up and went over to his shelf. "By the way—even if I can arrange this meeting for you, I still feel I owe you something. If they'd convicted me in that tower, I'd be very dead right now. Found this in my hole under the shelf. Bakkel's flunkies missed it. Got it off a Jedi I treated a few years back. Er—he didn't pay too well."

He tossed something at me, and I caught it. It was a lightsaber, single hilt. I activated it, and the blade hummed to life, a dark, dark blue. I smiled, and deactivated it. "Bao-Dur. Catch."

The Iridonian caught the hilt and stared at me. "General—I—"

"I fully expect you to modify it to suit you and only you," I told him. "And if you find a focusing crystal someplace you like better you'll change that, too. I'll teach you how to use it as we go along."

"Your friend's a Jedi, too, huh?" Dhagon asked.

"Not yet, but he will be."

The good doctor grabbed the holodiscs then and headed over to the door, but he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "I can check my contacts at the palace and get a meeting with your Jedi Master shortly. If you've got anything you need to take care of in the quarter, you best do it now. You're dealing with some serious politics by contacting them. If things go bad during the meeting you might not be welcome in Iziz anymore. Perhaps never. D'you really want to go through with this?"

"We're sending up a flare, are we? 'Jedi here?' Let them come. Arrange the meeting."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get on it," Dhagon said. "Grab a cot and rest a bit. Once I get a meeting time, I'll let you know." He left.

I looked distastefully at the medical beds. A corpse had been lying on one of them just two hours previously. So I didn't lie down. Instead, I grabbed Dhagon's dirty plate and scalpel, and went over to the fresher to wash them.

Of course, I _had_ only had three hours of sleep the night before. I slept anyway.

I woke up when Dhagon came back, confused and a little disgusted to realize I'd laid down on a cot, after all. Mandalore was laughing at me. I sniffed. Outside, it was going on twilight. It had been several hours.

"Well, the meeting is on," Dhagon said. "Head straight to the cantina. Your guy should be in there. And no offense, but I hope I never see you again."

I shook Ghent's hand. "None taken. If I wanted to live quietly these days, I wouldn't want to see me, either. Thank you, Dhagon Ghent. Goodbye."

My companions and I set out for the cantina. Nikko tried to hail me when I came in, but I waved him off. Kavar was there.

You know, I hadn't really thought about what I'd say to him until I actually found him. I'd been so focused on finding him, I'd never bothered to plan what would happen when I did. I was assailed with the old emotional cocktail of anger and betrayal, but I was very happy to see him, too.

Kavar was older than when I'd seen him last. There were lines around his eyes and mouth and faint strands of gray in his fair hair, but when he smiled at me, I could see the man that had raised me and taught me of the Jedi.

"You must have gone through a lot to arrange this meeting," he greeted me. "The palace is at full battle readiness. Smuggling in a message is no small task."

"Small tasks are boring, anyway," I said, just as I'd used to when he'd caught me as a child, shirking my chores to tackle exercises for a Jedi three years more advanced. "You know me, Master Kavar."

"Kavar, huh?" Mandalore asked. "The famed Jedi Guardian. The Mandalorians counted on the fact that it would be you, not Revan, who would lead the Jedi against us during the Mandalorian Wars. I wonder how we'd have fared fighting against you. I thought you were killed fighting Malak during the Jedi Civil War."

A faint frown line appeared between my Master's brows, and he said, "It seems my former student keeps curious company. Strange times lead to strange alliances, though. Why are you here? I imagine that you hold little love for any on the Jedi Council anymore, even an old friend."

I looked up at him, and opened my mind to his. "It hurt," I found myself confessing. "When you turned on me, too. Why did the Council cast me out? I came back. Many before me had done worse than I and had yet been accepted back into the Order—and after me—you welcomed _Revan_…"

I sensed Kavar's pain. He gripped my shoulder. "You have to understand that it was a time of great uncertainty," he began. "We had just learned that Darth Revan was back with an armada, but there was more to it than that. And I think you deserve an explan—"

"Am I interrupting?" asked a cold, nasal voice with terrible sarcasm. I turned to see a man in Onderonian military-issue armor. A high-browed man with a long, thin nose like a hawk addressed me and Kavar. He wore Colonel's stripes, and I knew immediately it was Tobin. He was flanked by seven hooded soldiers in uniform. I activated my lightsaber and took up a defensive stance in front of Kavar.

"I thought for sure that the _Ebon Hawk_ was mine," Tobin said to me. "I was certain. Only to see you slip through my fingers during the battle. Imagine my delight to discover you were on Iziz. Quite careless, if you ask me. Get them, men!" he rapped out. "And watch your aim. Civilian casualties cause a mess of paperwork."

"I must return to the palace," Kavar told me. His hand stretched past me, and the Force flowed out to stun Tobin's soldiers. Kavar started running. "I'll get word to you when I'm able," he called back to me. "Run!"

"Wh—what have you done to my men?" Colonel Tobin demanded, looking around. "Blast!" He started running after Kavar. "Men, take care of her!" he yelled at the soldiers whose eyes were beginning to refocus. "I won't let Kavar escape!" He ran after Kavar along with two of his men.

The other five were left to presumably kill me. Kreia drew her vibrosword. "For the sake of subtlety I suggest we avoid using grenades, and any other weapons that may injure civilians in this battle."

"We're light-years past blindingly obvious, Kreia," I snapped at her. "But of course we aren't going to hurt civilians!"

The soldiers were recovering from Kavar's use of the Force. They brought up their weapons, and I attacked, passing Nikko. The pazaak player was drawing his blaster. "You're _that_ one?" he demanded. "Captain of the _Ebon Hawk_? And a _Jedi_?"

For some reason, I knew I wasn't going to have to fight Nikko, too. "Guilty!" I called back. "But I never fired first in that battle! They attacked me! Just like they're doing now!" I cut down a soldier. Mandalore sniped down another with commendable accuracy. "Head for the door!" I bellowed to my companions.

"I shall guard the rear!" Handmaiden cried.

"No, I will!" Nikko cried, blasting a soldier. "Good luck, Jedi! May the Force be with you!"

Nikko covered our retreat as we ran out of the cantina. There were only two left, but I hope he was okay in the end. We left the planet, and I didn't meet him the second time we went there. I never heard from him again, but he was a good guy.

As we ran into the square, soldiers streamed out into the street with guns. Tobin had obviously called for reinforcements. "Shield!" I yelled.

We waded through soldiers. I tried to incapacitate, so as to move more quickly, but sometimes I had to kill. The Handmaiden and Bao-Dur showed similar restraint, but Kreia and Mandalore weren't so fussy. I could sense Mandalore enjoying the battle.

After about fifteen minutes' battle east, we staggered into the marketplace. A soldier ran down from the sky ramp that accessed the palace. "Wh—what's happening in the west square?" he demanded, taking in Kreia, the Handmaiden, and Bao-Dur's bloody clothes. "It sounded like battle. Command's ordered comm blackout. Do you know what's going on?"

"Vaklu's soldiers have been attacking us, that's what," I panted, looking behind me. But no soldiers had pursued us. I took a hasty drink of water.

"What! Why?" the young man asked sharply. "That makes no sense. Command hasn't issued any alerts. Are you sure it wasn't some of those beast-rider slags? They've been getting bolder recently."

"I'm sure. It's the middle of the day, and I saw the uniforms on the people trying to kill us."

"You—you must be mistaken," the soldier stammered. He had a decent face. "Soldiers don't just attack civilians without orders. If it weren't for the comm blackout, I'd check with command. Just head for the safety of the merchant square, citizen. We'll send a patrol to investigate as soon as we can contact our HQ."

He ran back up toward the captain of the sky ramp. "Not all the military is after us," Mandalore observed. "Still, Vaklu can throw a whole army at us. I think we've outworn our welcome over here. We should head back to the spaceport before General Vaklu invents some charges against us. Then we'd be in real trouble."

"You're right," I said. "Let's go."

I took off at a run through the market. Halfway through, some citizens detached from the crowd and I distinctly heard one of them say, "You know what to do."

A blaster shot fired over my head. I yelled back to the others, "Keep running! The last thing we need is for the populace to see a Jedi attacking civilians!"

Vaklu's plainclothes spies, or dissatisfied rioters from the other day, or whatever they were, chased us through the market. We dodged shots and kept running.

Then there was a shot up ahead that sounded quite different. "The diagnostic is doing something strange," a soldier by the starport wall said to his friend. "'Target acquired.' What the hell does that mean?"

With horror I saw the Onderonian turrets on the wall, used in old days to defend Iziz from the beast-riders when they were still enemies, were activating, swiveling their barrels to point directly at us!

"Turrets!" I screamed, throwing up a last second wall with the Force. The lasers hit it and bounced off. Mandalore started shooting at the turrets. Fortunately, the civilians chasing us decided they didn't want to get in the line of fire, and stopped.

Kreia reached out with the Force and a turret crumpled, smoking. I followed Kreia's lead, sensing for the turret's circuits and crushing them with the Force. I felt a touch on my mind, then someone else reached out with the Force and did the same to a third turret. Bao-Dur's connection with me and his affinity to machines gave him a natural feel for how to destroy them in the moment of crisis.

We'd reached the starport checkpoint. I threw my visa at the guard, who fortunately proved to be one of the clueless military, and not one of Vaklu's.

He scanned my visa and thrust it back at me as his partner pounded madly on the turret console, trying to shut down those that Kreia, Bao-Dur, and Mandalore hadn't destroyed. "Your visa's been scanned," he said quickly. "You're cleared to leave. I'd leave right away. Things are going crazy in this quarter!"

He didn't have to tell me twice. The Handmaiden led the way into the starport, and the turret fire stopped.

"The shuttle's just ahead," Mandalore called. "We should get out of here, fast. It's going to be some time before they forget about us here. No more trips to Iziz until the situation changes here. A lot."

We ran to Mandalore's shuttle and strapped ourselves in. The Mandalorian had her up and running in two minutes. We flew out of the bay and off the planet. Behind me, though, on the planet, I could sense people still shooting.

"Dammit. Riot's broken out," I relayed to the others.

"It's not your fault, General," Bao-Dur said.

"Is it not?" Kreia asked. "From a narrow point of view, perhaps we did not instigate the fighting on Onderon. But those in power there chose to use our presence on that world, and the Jedi's emergence from his fortress, as excuses to begin violence. Had we not gone, would fighting still have broken out?"

"We did not choose what happened," the Handmaiden argued. "The extent of Darden's choice was to land on that world and to contact the Jedi. The fighting was the choice of others. We share no blame."

"You're right," I told her. "We don't. Our consciences are clear. But Kreia's right, too. If we hadn't gone, what happened might not have happened. And I fear that Onderon and the galaxy at large is far more likely to see it in that light than in yours, last of the Handmaidens."

"More trouble, then," Bao-Dur said.

"Looks like it," I agreed. "If the _Ebon Hawk_ is—that is—if we still can, we should leave the system right away." Once again I wondered what I would find when I went through the jungle to the _Hawk_'s landing site. I feared what I'd find.

We docked on Dxun. It was a few hours earlier in the day here than it had been on Dxun. The day was just starting to cool. And while it had been sunny on Onderon, here it was raining. Again.

"We're back," Mandalore said as we stepped out into the camp. "The shuttle is going to stay docked here until further notice." He folded his arms and regarded me from beneath his helm. "I'm not ready to part company yet," he told me. "It sounds like you have a lot of traveling to do. So do I. I'm going with you."

It was not a request. He continued, "The Sith have taken a particular interest in you, and you could use an extra blaster. I've been meaning to leave Dxun to look for the other Mandalorian clans, anyway."

I remembered the interest Mandalore had so carefully not expressed toward the _Ebon Hawk_ when we'd first met. "You want to help me stop the Sith. Why?"

"The Sith aren't known for sharing power," Mandalore said simply. "If the Jedi Order is destroyed for good, it's inevitable that the Sith will dominate the Republic, and then my people will be eradicated or enslaved. Helping your cause is a matter of necessity. Mandalorians helped Exar Kun during his war. We know firsthand how we'd fare in the service of their like. But that's enough for now. We'll have time to talk later."

They were good, solid reasons, but I couldn't help but think there was more to Mandalore's sudden desire to go off across the galaxy with me. I opened my mouth to ask him more about it, but a voice cut me off.

"Hey! You're back. The _Ebon Hawk_ is patched up and ready to go. Been sitting here most of the day waiting for you to get back. Any time you're ready to go we can just ask the guide here to take us back to the ship."

I whirled.

* * *

_"You did tell me he's not dead," Aithne said, laughing. "I bet you almost jumped out of your skin, though. Bet it was hilarious."_

_ "Shut up," Darden groused._

_ Aithne obligingly changed the subject. "I do wonder why Mandalore decided to come with you, though. I mean, the Sith had attacked his people right along with you, so yeah, they were a threat, but if he wanted to travel to find more Mandalorians, it'd be easier to take some of his own people than to hitch a ride on the _Ebon Hawk_. He—he'd want to know what happened to me, and it wouldn't be like him to just ask you, either…but…" Aithne broke off and looked hard at Darden. Her fists clenched in your lap._

_ "I know Canderous has split loyalties," Darden said, quite calmly. "I know you made him Mandalore and gave him the mission to rebuild the clans, and knowing him and having heard about you, Aithne, I can guess why you did it."_

_ Aithne made a wry face. "Ah, now 'Aithne' is more than a handy alias, a comfortable lie to make me feel better, isn't it?"_

_ "You changed during the Jedi Civil War. For the better, I think."_

_ "I also stayed the same."_

_ Darden shrugged off the name question as irrelevant for the time being. "Anyway, Canderous did tell me later that he hoped to trace you when he came with me, but I'm not sure it was the whole truth. Seems to me there might have been something…" she trailed off, and looked thoughtful. Her eyes narrowed, then. Aithne watched her. For a second all Darden's intensity seemed to build, like a firework before it goes off, a dam before it bursts. "Whatever happened," she said then, "He'll be able to tell me now. I'll shoot him a transmission and ask."_

_ "You think Kreia might've had something to do with why he stayed?" Aithne asked._

_ "It'd fit her MO," Darden agreed. "Mandalore is smart and powerful enough she would've wanted him on our side, but under her thumb. And she was well-versed in everything you ever did. She might've manipulated his friendship with you in some way."_

_ "He would've reacted like you did," Aithne said. "With suspicion."_

_ "'But better a kath where you can see it than a laigrek where you can't,'" Darden said, quoting a Dantooine farmer's proverb. _

_ "Mm," Aithne agreed. "But Canderous has moved on now—you have to contact him; he's not with you anymore."_

_ "Yeah, he's back with his people now," Darden said._

_ "Good," Aithne said firmly. "So. Atton wasn't dead?"_

* * *

**Coming 6/9: Things get intense as Darden's retelling of a Sith defection brings up discussion of loyalty, friendship, and the limits of trust. As evening turns to night, the **_**Ebon Hawk**_**, worried at Darden's long absence, contacts her over the com-link.**

**And 6/12: Darden relates how she first learned of the **_**Ebon Hawk**_** and Mandalore's previous history with Aithne, and the story brings about an emotional discussion of the multiple factors that led to Aithne's reluctant abandonment of her family and friends. **


	18. XVI

**Disclaimer: Read my mind and you will find this is not my story to unwind.**

* * *

XVI.

Games with High Stakes

_No. There he was, dripping wet at the hangar opening, smiling at me! Atton Rand, despite all my fears to the contrary, was undoubtedly all in one piece. I honestly couldn't string two words together. "You—you—"I stepped forward. He smiled wider, like I was going to hug him or something. Yeah, that was going to happen. _

I punched him in the arm. Hard. He was wearing that stupid leather jacket of his, not his armored shirt—the idiot had been lazing around, not in danger _at all_—so the punch connected, and it hurt him.

"Ow!" he cried. "What was that for? I've been working like a bantha down here trying to patch up that rust bucket—"

Speech returned to me with a vengeance. "—And you should have fixed the comm _first thing_!" I snapped. Two days of pent up fear exploded out of me like a grenade. "You _spacebrain_! There've been Sith, _hordes_ of bounty hunters—I was worried sick! I couldn't get a hold of you—I was sure they weren't _all_ idiots, you were dead, and the _Hawk'_d been scrapped!"

I finished, breathing hard. For a moment, no one said a word. Atton stared. Then, slowly, he started grinning. "_You_ were worried about _me_? Didn't know you cared, sweetheart. Did you miss me?"

I glared. "Come on," I said to the others disgustedly. "Let's go."

Mandalore had a guide posted at the entrance to the camp that I knew could take us back to the ship quickly. I headed for him. I could feel the others watching me, every bit as confused as I was by my sudden outburst, and it made me angry. Angrier. I was relieved, but the relief embarrassed me, too. Mandalore had said he'd sent a guard to the _Ebon Hawk_ to keep the ship and the pilot safe, after all. The Handmaiden had pointed out that the Sith sensed their prey through the Force and would follow me. Not a single bounty hunter had mentioned my ship, except as having escaped in the space battle. It seemed idiotic now that I had been so worried. I had missed Atton. But as he lengthened his stride to catch up to me, almost skipping, I couldn't bring to mind a single reason why I'd missed him.

"You've missed everything. Just everything," I growled. "Onderon's broken out into riots. We found Master Kavar, allied with Mandalore here, _and _I'm training Bao-Dur as a Jedi."

"Well, I knew you'd allied with Mandalorians when one showed up at the _Ebon Hawk_ and offered to help out with repairs," Atton said. "But you're training Bao-Dur as a Jedi? Since when?"

"This morning. He's been sensitive his entire life. I think I can help him understand it."

Atton glanced over at Bao-Dur, shaking rain out of his hair like a kath hound. It was a useless effort, however, as it was still raining. "Aren't you a little—y'know, _old_?"

"The programming of any droid, however old, can be changed provided the programmer has the skills required," Bao-Dur answered him.

"Yes, but does _she_ have them? She's _crazy_. You're going to trust her to train you?"

Atton's open skepticism seemed to amuse Mandalore. "He's not bad, Leona," he said to me. "Who are you, pilot?"

"Atton Rand, Mandalore," Atton introduced himself. "Can't say I'm pleased to meet you."

We'd arrived at the edge of camp, and Mandalore gestured to the guide. The guide turned without a word and started leading us toward the _Ebon Hawk_.

Mandalore seemed to evaluate Atton. "You're old enough to have fought in the wars, aren't you? Did you fight my people with the Republic?"

"I don't do history," Atton said shortly.

Surprisingly, Bao-Dur spoke up. "He's been a help, Atton. I may not—I may not be happy that he's coming, but I have to admit that much."

Bao-Dur's emotions roiled, and I knew he _detested_ that Mandalore was coming. Still, he'd been fair with the Handmaiden, and he'd try to be fair with Mandalore.

Atton glanced over at the mechanic. His glance fell on Bao-Dur's lightsaber. "Hey, you've got a lightsaber." He looked over at me, then, and saw mine, too. "_Both _of you do."

"Like I said," I repeated. "You missed _everything_. Don't _ever_ be out of touch for days on end like that again. Not with our lives the way they are now."

Atton grinned again. "So—your Master Kavar. Did you talk with him?"

"Not for more than a minute. Our old friend Colonel Tobin showed up and started shooting up the cantina. Kavar ran. He says he'll contact us. For now, we're moving on. Your favorite planet, Rand."

Atton stared at me. "Nar Shaddaa? You're kidding. I know that Master Zekey Ill is there, but I assumed we'd hold off looking for him until we had at least another two Jedi Masters with us. Those bounty hunters will eat us alive."

"It's Zez-Kai Ell. And yeah, maybe so. But maybe they'll take us to Goto. And I want to talk to him. That crime lord has got my attention in a big way. I could hardly turn around in Iziz without a bounty hunter trying to blow my brains out."

"Suddenly, I would very much dislike to be this Goto," the Handmaiden remarked.

Atton barked a laugh. "If anyone's crazy enough to take on the Exchange and manage it, it's you. But I can help you lay low on Nar Shaddaa, if you're sure about this."

"Good," I said curtly. I quickened my pace still further, outstripping the Mandalorian guide and the others. I was well aware my unusual asperity toward Atton was making a scene. I was well aware I was being ridiculous. And I couldn't take the weight of the Handmaiden and Bao-Dur's confusion, or Kreia's judgment, or Mandalore's silent amusement any longer. Particularly because I still couldn't think of a single reason why I'd been so worried, or why I was so annoyed to see the man I'd been worried over. My behavior made no logical sense, yet my contrary impulse was nigh overpowering. I hated it.

The path had been cleared of beasts by the Mandalorian guard, or perhaps they were still out of action from when I'd come through a few days ago. At any rate, I encountered no difficulties and in thirty minutes I'd reached the ship.

My com-link buzzed. "Hey, you haven't died or anything while you've stormed off in a huff, have you?" Atton wanted to know.

"No! Get off the line, you idiot!"

"Just trying to follow orders, _General_," he needled. "Keep in touch. Don't want you worried sick over me or anything. Or any of us. The guide says from the looks of things we're about ten minutes behind you. You really moved."

"Yeah, well, three days without you, I'd got used to the quiet," I retorted. "Over and out."

I shut of the com-link and activated the boarding ramp. Climbing into the _Ebon Hawk _I called out, "Teethree! I'm home!"

But there was no answering cheerful beep. No wheels sounded. My words echoed through a ship that sounded too empty. Ominous. I felt out with the Force, and sensed a Darkness waiting for me, emanating patiently from the portside dormitory.

I activated my lightsaber and followed my senses. There was a woman in the portside dormitory, standing at rest. She was veiled, dressed in black and red robes.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Where did you come from?"

The world went black, Aithne. I couldn't see a damn thing. Not the ship beneath my feet, not the Sith assassin, and not the lightsaber she activated. I heard, though. I heard the hum of the lightsaber that wasn't mine. I heard it shriek as it swung toward my head. Instinctively I raised my own saber, and the strain in my arms told me I'd blocked a blow. The assassin struggled against me, but she was weak. I threw her off. The air whistled to my right. I swung again, blocked again.

I was forced to rely on the Force to save me as I had not done since before I'd lost it. It was all I could trust, all I could depend upon, with my vision darkened by whatever the Sith woman had done. Somehow, I found I could see, sense where my opponent was, guess how she would move. I fought, kicked, sliced, parried furiously, seeking any advantage. Once, twice my lightsaber hit something that didn't hum angrily with the sound of lightsaber on lightsaber. I couldn't tell if it was the ship's wall or my enemy, and the assassin made no outcry. But finally, I sliced down, connected, and cut through something that felt like metal.

My eyesight abruptly returned, and it nearly blinded me with its brightness.

When the blurriness dissipated, I saw the Sith woman kneeling at my feet. "My lightsaber…" she panted in a rich, passionate alto. "You have destroyed it. I yield…Master. It is as I heard through the Force. My life…for yours."

"What, like I'm supposed to kill you now?" I demanded. "What are you even doing here?"

I bent down to examine the woman. I _had_ hit her. Only partially. It looked like the woman had been able to deflect my strikes and keep me from cutting her in half, but I'd got in a deep stroke on her right shoulder, and another above her left knee. I could see the rips in her robes, could smell the burnt, cauterized flesh.

"You must kill me!" the woman cried. "The alternative is only another death, and I would rather die by your hands."

The boarding ramp screeched open again. I was at a loss what to do. I'd have had no problems killing her with her lightsaber in her hand, but when she knelt helpless at my feet after surrendering, Aithne, it was an entirely different thing. "Look—you're wounded," I said awkwardly. "I'll help you to the med bay."

"I…I have nothing to offer you," the woman said, rising, half-sobbing. "Your strength is superior. It is as I have felt." She tried to step forward, but collapsed in a faint, overcome by pain.

I caught her, stumbling beneath her weight. "Somebody give me some help! She's hurt!" I shouted.

Atton and the Handmaiden ran in, weapons at the ready. "Kreia said you were being attacked!" Atton cried. "What—who the hell is that?"

"I think she's a Sith. I hurt her—help me get her to the med bay."

Atton holstered his blaster and picked the woman up off of me. "A Sith—and we're taking her to the med bay?" he asked, incredulous.

"She yielded," I explained.

"Are there more? Is the enemy here?" the Handmaiden wanted to know.

I shook my head, following Atton to the med bay. "No. I think she's alone. She's different. Not an assassin like the others—a trained Dark Jedi."

"Are you all right, General?" Bao-Dur said, falling into train in the corridor. "Kreia said—"

"I'm not hurt," I interrupted. "Does anyone know anything about medicine? She's not human. I don't know the biology…"

Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden peered at the woman in Atton's arms. She was pale, with a delicate bone structure and red lips not tinted by any makeup. Bao-Dur shook his head, and the Handmaiden said, "Humanoid, but not human, nor Echani nor Zabrak nor anything I recognize. I cannot help you."

I opened the med bay door for Atton. Atton lay her down on the cot and removed her veil. I hissed in a breath. The woman was entirely without eyes. Not blind—she literally had no eyes, Aithne. The sunken sockets where they should have been were scarred over, but there had clearly never been any eyes there, and the damage was of a different kind.

"I can treat her," Atton said, unexpectedly.

"Fine—then everyone else out," I said.

Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden left, and I stood across the cot from Atton, looking down at the alien Sith woman. Atton slowly peeled down her vest and the top of her robe so as to better look at her shoulder wound.

"Now I've seen everything," he muttered. "This woman…she's a Miraluka. I didn't think any were left in this part of the galaxy."

"You've seen them before?"

"Yeah," he said. "Their kind see through the Force. I've heard of her kind that became Jedi, but a Sith—that's a new one."

He opened the medical supply barrel Atris had stocked for us back on Telos and brought out some ointment. He started to rub it on the lightsaber burn. "You weren't the first one to hurt her. Look—here, and here—"he pointed out scar after scar on the woman's neck and collarbone. Some were indented flesh: lightsaber wounds, like the ones I'd given her. Others were old electrical burns, like I'd heard could be inflicted by either Force Lightning or torture cages. Others looked like they'd been made by whips or chains or other instruments of torture. Atton rolled down her robe, and I reached out with the Force to a length of linen from the bin and laid it over the woman's breasts to preserve her modesty, but I'd already seen it. The entirety of the woman's torso was covered in scars like the ones on her shoulders.

The sight profoundly disturbed me, but Atton remained clinical. There was neither distress nor compassion in his face or in his feelings, only cool evaluation of a problem that needed solving. He bandaged the woman's shoulder with another length of linen. "With lightsaber burns you can't do much but deaden the nerves until the skin grows over the hole," he explained. "Not without the Force. If you wanted to try, though, the veins and arteries ought to be in the same places as on a human."

I nodded, and started to remove the fresh bandage, but Atton had flipped up the skirt of the woman's robe. "Hold off on that," he said. "I think this is what made her pass out, not that." He pointed to the burn just above the Miraluka's left knee. It was deep, almost to the bone.

"She didn't even cry out," I whispered. "Didn't say a word!"

"You severed a major artery and some nerves there," Atton said, peering at the wound pattern. "If it were a vibroblade, she'd probably be dead. I don't know if she'll be able to walk, though, unless you—"

I already had my hands on the Miraluka's leg. I concentrated on the patterns of muscle, ligament, and sinew, on the veins and arteries in the thigh. I felt the blood start moving again. The cauterization faded away, and the leg started bleeding heavily. I focused with all my might on reknitting the vessels together again, on sealing the breach. Blood gushed over my hand to the wrist, but slowly, it stemmed. Muscle and ligaments grew in through the gap, and tissue. Just before the scar developed, I gasped and let go, completely and totally drained.

Atton watched all this with a completely unreadable expression. When I removed my hands, from the woman's leg, he rolled the woman's tunic up over her torso to cover her up again and removed the length of linen there. He wet it with water from the med bay fresher and tore it in half. Half he handed to me. I went to the sink and started scrubbing my bloody hands with it.

Atton smeared antibacterial over the wound I'd nearly repaired, and wrapped the other half of linen around the Miraluka's leg, securing the bandage with a pin. "The Miraluka had a colony on the Mid Rim," he said then. "About two—three years ago now. Almost halfway between Onderon and Dantooine. Then…it wasn't there anymore. The whole planet was wiped out, nothing left alive. No one knows why. If she's from there—"

"Will she be all right?" I asked, drying my hands and returning to stand opposite Atton over the cot again.

"She tried to kill you," Atton pointed out.

"And then she stopped."

"She'll walk again, thanks to what you did," Atton said. "And she's already carrying her share of scars. She's a survivor, this one. Give her a couple of weeks, and I don't guess she'll be any worse off than she was before."

The woman stirred then. Her lips parted. "I—"

"Hush now," I said. "You're in the med bay of the _Ebon Hawk_. Your wounds are being treated. Rest. No one will harm you."

"Kill me," the woman begged again.

"You yielded," I said. "A Jedi doesn't kill her prisoners. Sleep. Just—what's your name?"

"Visas," the Sith whispered. Her breathing deepened as she fell back into unconsciousness.

I felt the chill of Atton's regard, even as I saw to Visas. I sensed conflict in him, and I looked up. His arms were folded. His posture was calm, but his emotions and face were at war with themselves. At times, Atton had looked at me as if he were thinking about taking me down in a fight. On Telos, in Atris' Academy, he'd as good as admitted that he'd noted the opportunities he'd had to kill me, and I'd realized the man I'd taken for a petty criminal pilot-for-hire might have a dark and dangerous past. That dark edge to Atton was present in him now. He looked disgusted with me. Almost contemptuous. And yet I sensed at the same time he approved of what I'd done. It didn't make sense, and I couldn't get a better read on him. It made me nervous.

"You're a Jedi now, are you?" he asked, in a forcedly light tone.

"Not of the Order," I conceded, "But yes, I think I am a Jedi again. Or becoming one. Of a sort. It's the only way that I can see myself where all this starts to make sense."

Atton's lip curled. "I think you always were a Jedi, sweetheart. Well. Least you've stopped lying about it. Next time the Sith come after us I can tell 'em they aren't crazy. They really can try to kill you, and they're on the right track. Then you can bandage _their_ wounds and try to turn _them_ to the Light Side, too." He laughed. Harshly. Bitterly. Scornfully.

The sound made the hairs on my arms stand on end. "You really hate Jedi, don't you? I've noticed it before, but this—do you hate me for what I've done here? Do you think I'm a fool?"

He continued to stand stock still, but his emotions tossed like a ship in a storm. I didn't usually get much from Atton. I wondered what had disturbed him so much. It clearly hadn't been the Miraluka, and I wondered about that, too. After a long moment, just a little of the tension left Atton's body. "Nah, I don't hate you," he said finally, and I believed him. "It's crazy, leaving an assassin alive, but then, I knew you were crazy when I signed up on this trip."

He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his blue eyes, like starlit space, but just as cold just then. He was worried about me, but there was more than that, too. I knew I wouldn't be able to forget the tone in which he'd just spoken of the Jedi, any more than I'd be able to forget the danger I'd sensed when I'd asked him about his Echani training, or that though Atton had shown capability treating the Sith, familiarity with the body, medicine, and lightsaber wounds, but no horror at her scars, no compassion.

"To Nar Shaddaa?" Atton asked, breaking my musings. "Mandalore sent the scout back to camp for supplies, but we should be ready to go in a couple hours."

And just like that, the man I knew returned, my friend and pilot. "Yeah. But you're in charge of Visas, Atton. Take care of her. Tell me when she wakes up, and when you think she can talk. If she proves to be more threat than help, we _will_ chuck her out the airlock or leave her on Nar Shaddaa. Deal?"

Atton thought about this, then he nodded reluctantly. "Just as long as we do. I'll go help Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden load up supplies."

Before he could leave, I found myself reaching up, touching his shoulder. "Atton—"

"Yeah?"

I plunged ahead before I could convince myself not to say it. "I _did_ miss you, okay? And I was _really_ worried. Thanks for your help here."

Atton looked away, his ears red like they always were when he was embarrassed. "Yeah, well, uh, I worried about you, too. Just a little!" he added hastily. "But you do have a tendency to turn planets upside down, sweetheart."

"Unfortunately," I murmured, thinking of Onderon and Master Kavar. "I hope they're all okay."

* * *

_ Aithne looked troubled. "I…I find myself in an odd position," she said. _

_ "What's that?"_

_ "Disapproving of a pattern of behavior that's saving me," Aithne explained. "You're altogether too trusting—not naïve, but too patient with potential enemies. I mean, the Handmaiden was the least of it, really! The girl was probably spying on you for a woman that bore you definite ill-will, if she wasn't your outright enemy. But fine, I get her. She liked you, and showed no indication that she'd be a threat. But the others!_

_ "Canderous is a good guy. But you didn't know that! He's a Mandalorian, had fought you in the past, and you didn't know why he wanted to come with you. Not really. He might've wanted to destabilize your mission, or he could've been plotting war against the Republic. Then Atton—with an indifference to horrific torture but working knowledge of the anatomy of a species of Force-Sensitives, Echani training, familiarity with lightsabers and their effects, a hatred for Jedi, _and _an acknowledgement that Revan's a woman that he didn't seem to get from the holovids—didn't you _see _what that looked like? Didn't you care what habits he'd picked up? The sort of conditioning he might have had—it runs deep, Darden! But hey, I can even understand the two of them. Both of them had helped you, even if they _might_ have proved to be a threat. Maybe you thought it was worth the risk. _

"_But you can't justify Kreia and Visas like that. Kreia—she all but admitted to being a Sith, and never said she repented of the ideas, only that the other Sith cast her out. She admitted to hiding from Atris, said she'd hide from the other Jedi Masters, and you _knew_ she'd do it because of what they might tell you about her! She was a demonstrable security risk. You knew she had an agenda, knew she might betray you. You've told me that she did. Why didn't you kill her? And Visas—she'd tried to kill you! And you spared her? What the hell?"_

_Aithne's eyes blazed through this tirade. Darden remained calm. Her hands were folded in her lap. She met Aithne's gaze without fear. "I've never regretted trusting Brianna, Canderous, Atton, or Visas. Never. And I never trusted Kreia. I may or may not have waited too long to act on the threat she represented. As I've said, the old Order themselves might have proven a greater threat to me personally, at least at first. She quite possibly saved me and thus the galaxy, before she endangered it again."_

"_Brianna's the Handmaiden?"_

"_Yes."_

_Aithne shrugged this off, obviously deeply disturbed. "It's not even that you could've been killed, or the Republic hurt. Clearly you weren't and it hasn't been. But this—I can only consider it a flaw—but is it why you're here? Why you can face me? Because no matter what I've done, you can trust that _I'll do the right thing_?" The last words were terribly sarcastic. _

"_You did do the right thing in the end. And so did Brianna, Canderous, Atton, and Visas. My faith in them paid off. So will my faith in you," Darden said._

_Aithne snorted. "You can't know that. I don't know that." She lapsed into silence, brooding._

_Darden squeezed her arm briefly, then continued._

* * *

The crew would have agreed with you about my decision to spare Visas, Aithne. Bao-Dur was my only ally at first. Three days after her surrender and our departure from Dxun, she still hadn't awoken for any appreciable length of time. When I'd told Bao-Dur of Visas' scars and her surrender, of her desire to die, he'd wanted to help her, too, but everyone else had been vocal more than once that the woman was more of a risk than an asset.

But I couldn't forget the way she'd pled to die, how she'd insisted she'd rather die by my hand. I didn't know what she preferred to death. It could be killing me, or being killed by the one that had sensed her. Until I talked to her, I couldn't know. Atton, despite his misgivings, had regularly treated the woman, and I'd checked on her, in between my lessons with Kreia and my lessons with Bao-Dur.

Bao-Dur hadn't manifested any ability to manipulate the Force beyond his surprising display with the turrets on Onderon, but his mind was getting better at sensing me all the time, and earlier that evening he had been able to sense the impulses in Teethree and his remote. I'd started him on some of the simplest forms of single-hilt lightsaber combat. He'd chosen not to modify his single-hilt saber, as he'd always fought with a single vibrosword. I had to keep it simple because he was still getting a feel for the weapon, and I had to remember the forms myself in order to teach him. The simplest ones came easiest. We went over movements and stances, first with vibroswords, then with the lightsaber.

For now, it was mostly drills. I had to get the forms into his muscle memory before he would be ready to spar, and anyway, I judged his emotions still too turbulent. He didn't speak his feelings often, but he felt them strongly. There had been an argument with Mandalore the day before, and I'd seen some of his inner rage. I knew he would need to do a lot more thinking and meditation, a lot of self-evaluation and learning to control, rather than be controlled by, his emotions before he was ready to use the lightsaber and the Force in combat.

Still, Bao-Dur was eager to learn, eager to defend me and our cause. Oddly enough, he seemed to be almost as eager to defend most of the rest of the crew, for all he didn't talk to them much. Protectiveness seemed to be a keynote of his character. He wanted to be a shield for the good against what was evil. If he'd been trained in the traditions of the Old Order, I thought he might have chosen the path of a Jedi Guardian.

That evening I was just returning from the fresher after my lesson with Bao-Dur when I decided to go by the med bay to check on Visas again. This time, I found her sitting up on the cot.

Her head turned toward me, either because she had heard me, or sensed me in some other way. She'd replaced her veil, hiding the scarred place where she had never had any eyes. She slid off the cot to her knees before me, and bowed her head.

"My life, for yours," she said. Her voice fairly throbbed with expression. Aithne, you should hear Visas speak. I'd love to speak in a voice like hers.

"You're awake. Are you alright?"

"I am able to serve. If we enter battle I will fight and die alongside you," Visas promised.

I stooped, took Visas' hand, pulled her to her feet, and led her back to the cot. "Sit down. I didn't ask if you were able to serve. I asked if you were alright, Visas."

Visas sat. "I…I have not heard that question in some time. My flesh is…healed, if that's the answer you seek," she said, confused.

I sat beside her. "Not entirely, but it will do for the present. The wounds I gave you were not the only ones we saw, treating you. Who hurt you?"

"The scars are many, and the causes equally so. It is of no importance." It wasn't an answer.

"There were other Sith," I pressed. "Others that attacked the Mandalorian camp on Dxun. But you didn't come with them, did you? You're on your own. How did you find me?"

"I…felt you. Heard you through the Force. It was like a sound, at the edge of hearing. And when I heard it, I found I could not ignore it."

It was incredible to me that the Miraluka had sensed me all the way across the galaxy.

"But you didn't come because you wanted to; you didn't try to kill me because you wanted to," I observed, because if she had she wouldn't be acting like she had been.

"I did not wish to destroy you. How could I?" Visas said. "I wanted to find you, to understand. I raised my blade against you because my Master ordered it."

"Your Master," I repeated.

"Yes. I serve him. I am an emissary, a scout. My Master was aware of a disturbance in the Force, but was unaware of its nature, of you. The disturbance is not something one feels from a living thing." Visas paused. "There is little my Master does not know, and that you eluded his sight for so long…is significant, but I do not know why."

The Force impressed upon me that the Master Visas spoke of as one of the Sith Lords Kreia had told me of. Not Sion, whom I'd met on Peragus, nor the traitor, whom Kreia had referred to as a woman. No, I felt that Visas' Master must be the third, the Lord of Hunger whom even a thought could draw, and whom Kreia seemed to fear even as she claimed he must be destroyed.

"Where is your Master? How can I find him?" I asked Visas.

Until now Visas had been sitting beside me calmly, facing ahead and answering with equanimity. Now she stiffened and turned so she faced me. "You cannot," she said. "His vessel roams the borders of known space, and even I do not know where he travels…until he…calls for me. Even if I could lead you to my Master, I cannot permit you to find him…until you are ready."

I'd suspected before that the horrific wounds on Visas were due to her Master. Now I was certain. "What do you mean, ready?"

"If I bring you before my Master, untested, without your potential realized, then you will be lost to me," Visas said, voice shaking. "And I cannot allow that to happen. It would be as if one brought fire to a paradise valley, shattered a cavern of rare crystal…or blinded a painter."

Her passionate defense seemed entirely unwarranted. "Visas, do you even know my name?"

"I do not. Yet I will defend you to my last breath. Now I have found you, seen what you are—"

"My name is Darden Leona," I interrupted. "I am a woman like any other, yet if I could, I would stop your Master. He threatens me, and more than me. If by facing him, I could ensure that he would be stopped, that he could no longer hurt others—as he has hurt you, I believe—then what is my life? Help me find him, Visas."

"I cannot, I will not!" declared Visas. "I would die first, and gladly, to preserve you untouched, unharmed—Darden Leona. Now that I have found you, I cannot sacrifice what I have found."

"But—what he's done to you, what he threatens to do to the galaxy—he must be stopped," I insisted, utterly bewildered by Visas' sudden, fierce devotion.

"You will meet my Master," she said at last. "It is inevitable. I have…seen it. And when you stand before him, and realize what you face, you must be prepared. Until then, I must protect you, help you, until you are ready."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked her. "I nearly cripple you, and you swear loyalty to me. You don't know me, yet you would betray your Master to protect me and help me confront him. I don't understand."

Visas' lips curved up. "Nor can I comprehend why you heal one that tried to destroy you, how you persist bearing the wounds of the past that have left you almost dead and yet feel hope, seek right, if it even exists. There is a greatness in you, a greatness that does not stem from the Force. It stems from who you are, Darden Leona. I see this. And if my Master does not understand you, cannot see you, then perhaps there is hope for us all. But if you seek to survive, then you must understand why this is so."

Visas saw more than I'd ever seen, Aithne. And she'd seen it across the galaxy, when even her dreaded Master had not. "You said before your Master cannot see me. Why can you?"

"There is much I see my Master cannot," Visas replied. "I fear it is because of my nature, the nature of my race. My people spend their lives seeing the galaxy, the energy streaming of stars, the growth of life—all things touched by the Force."

"And where are they now? What happened?"

Visas' head bowed, and she folded her hands in her lap. "It is not a subject which I have spoken of—since its destruction."

I'd asked Atton since Visas' incapacitation, and he'd told me more about Katarr, the Miraluka colony that had existed in this sector. "Atton told me that a few years ago Katarr—everything on it just—ceased to exist," I stammered. "How—I mean—that sort of destruction. It's impossible."

"It was not a thing done with machines or weapons," Visas said in a near whisper. "The Force is far more terrible, and it touches more lives than any machine can hope to slay. For every one that feels the Force, strongly, deeply, each one feels and perceives it in their own way. You have strengths, though you seem not to know it. My Master has his. His power is great, and it comes from hunger. He is a wound in the Force, more presence than flesh, and in his wake, life dies…sacrificing itself to his hunger. And those that feel the Force strongly are beacons to his hunger. My people, my planet, would have been attacked in time, it was inevitable, yet we could do nothing about it."

"And it was all destroyed." My heart hurt, my eyes stung, and I wondered how what this Sith Lord had done to Malachor was different from what I had done to Malachor, though he drained the Force and I'd used a machine. "I have seen similar acts of destruction. I have—I have done similar acts of destruction."

"Not you!" Visas said fiercely. "If indeed you are Darden Leona, then know that I have heard tales of Malachor. It is said that many of my people felt the end of the Mandalorian Wars from across the galaxy. But do not mistake me. I do not mean to draw comparisons between Katarr and Malachor. My homeworld still exists. It is intact."

I couldn't see how this was supposed to make me feel better. Malachor is not intact. I splintered it, broke it, so nothing could ever grow there again, or nothing good, anyway. My voice was choked when I spoke. "Yet you survived though nothing else did?"

"I am not certain I did," Visas replied. "I was there when the planet died. To see everything around you extinguished…it…was as if I was blinded. It was if the Force had…been bled from the world."

Ten years of emptiness, of damnable quiet and intolerable stillness echoed across the space between Visas and me. "It was as if everything suddenly went silent, and you were alone, without sense."

Visas' head lifted, and she turned her face to me. "I imagine there are worse deaths. Worse pain. But if there are, I do not know them. I was the only living thing remaining on the planet of Katarr…and my life, my agony, was a flicker in the darkness that was the planet. All that I had been connected to had been severed."

"You're the very last one of your kind in this sector, aren't you?"

It wasn't the most sensitive question to ask her, but she answered. "I still wonder what would have happened if I had died with the others. If perhaps there would have been some way to hide my presence from the galaxy. If only I had not…felt that pain, that loss, as strongly as I did. But it could not be done. When the life was bled from the planet, and yet, somehow, I remained, my Master came for me. He walked upon the surface of my dead world, and there, lying in the bodies of my dead race, he took me for his own. And he made me see. And for the first time, I saw the galaxy. And I wished to die."

I wondered if Visas had _ever_ spoken of this. Pain and sorrow poured forth from her along with the words. Visas had no tear ducts. She couldn't cry. But I did, just as you are now. "What did he make you see, Visas?" I asked, keeping my voice steady with only the greatest effort.

"To this galaxy, my world, absent the currents and spectrums of the Force, was nothing but crude matter, rock, flesh, emptiness. He showed the flickering of life on other planets, the mass of beings that swarm through the empty places of the galaxy. To see such creatures, disconnected from themselves, their world, their place in it, unable to see the currents and how they affected everything around them—"Disgust, anger, and hatred swirled around her now, and I for the first time since her surrender I understood how the compassionate, sensitive, gentle woman had turned to the Sith.

I dragged my arm across my face, wiping away my tears. "Why do you think he showed you this?" I asked her.

Visas was under no illusions. "He showed me to make me believe in his cause," she replied. "He convinced me the galaxy, all life, must die. He fed upon its ugliness, its screaming, and in its place, he left silence….and where there was chaos, he brought stillness…and order."

"His order is a mockery and his silence worse," I spat, unable to control my sudden anger. "And as for what he showed you—"But except for the fact that the Sith Lord had shown Visas a warped vision of reality expressly designed to use her anger and grief to turn her to the Dark Side, I could not say anything about what he had shown her. I didn't know what it would have looked like to Visas. Everything was wrapped up in the way Visas perceived the universe. So instead of flatly contradicting what she had seen on Katarr, I asked, ""How do you see?"

"My people once had the power to perceive events, to _see_ through the Force," Visas replied. "That sight may manifest itself in many ways, and at times I may affect the abilities of others to see as well."

"Like you did when we fought."

"Even so."

"But the vision you once had, it's been lost, altered, since your Master found you?" I guessed.

"My sight has been damaged," the Miraluka admitted. "I can see you now. I could sense you across the galaxy. But once—what I see now is not the full extent of the perceptions of my people. My master, when he showed me my world—showed it to me as it is, it…hurt. And since that moment it has been difficult to perceive the Force as I once did. But now that I have met you, see you more clearly, I feel that perhaps there was a gift in it, hidden beneath the pain."

Kreia knew who I was through report, I thought, and then through observation, or through our bond. Bao-Dur knew me from experience, and the Handmaiden by observing my body language and expressions. Mandalore judged me by my actions in battle, both against his people and for them. But Visas seemed to know me differently. She had heard tales of my past, but she had not come to know me by them. She'd only known my name once I'd told her. She'd first sensed me through the Force, and judged me by that. From that, she seemed to know where I'd been and what I had felt. It was somewhat disconcerting, to be faced with that level of vision into me.

"You mean I've become stronger through what's happened to me, through my exile, and all those years I couldn't feel the Force," I said.

"Through all the pain, you have endured, and you are stronger for it."

"And it gives you hope?"

"Only when one suffers do certain truths become evident—both of the galaxy, and of the self. I feel you are an example of this."

"How do you see through the Force?" I asked her.

"If you wish to know," she said after a moment, "Perhaps it is possible to show another what my people see…what I see. First you must close your eyes. The surface of this ship, its sights, will only be a distraction."

Obediently, I closed my eyes.

I felt her will bend to help me. "Now. In your mind, reach out, listen for my breathing. Do not focus on the sound, but the life behind it. Imagine its energy, its texture, in tandem with the breathing."

She meant for me to feel _her_, to listen for _her_, through the Force.

"And then, in your mind, step back from the image, and see what remains."

I dismissed the idea of Visas-the-image, the willowy Miraluka woman in long, loose, black and red robes that hid the scars of years of abuse, with the veil that hid scarred over flesh that had never carried eyes. I focused instead on Visas-the-woman. I heard, felt, _saw_ the life of the woman, her Force signature. Her despair and her pain and her newborn love and devotion for me. It blazed as brightly and burned as hotly as a star, and it had all the gravity of one. I _saw_ Visas, and felt her nearness, and I was at once touched and afraid.

"There," Visas said, and I opened my eyes. "It is not as difficult as I thought. You learn quickly. It will take effort to maintain such sight, but you now have that power. And with it, you can use it to see life around you in a different way…as I used to see it."

Her voice was strained, and I was reminded that the woman had only just woken up today. I'd been selfish to keep her talking so long. "You're tired," I said. "Rest now. We'll talk more later."

I stood, but Visas said, "Forgive me, but before you go, I must ask. Why do _you_ do this? You heal me, welcome me, seek to help me. I sense you would teach me, if you could. _Why_?"

I knelt in front of the medical cot and took Visas' cold hand between my hands. "I would teach you," I confirmed. "I would remind you that the galaxy is not ugly, not terrible. I would teach you again to see that life is beautiful, and that though your Master has done unspeakable things to you, to your world, and to your people, you need not be alone, devoid of all connection to others. You felt me across the galaxy and you choose to help me now. I think you know that I can teach you this, want me to teach you this. And so I know that you are not lost."

Visas squeezed my hand so fiercely it hurt. "You _must_ not do this!" she cried. "I cannot allow you to weaken yourself for me."

I stood, releasing her hand. "To help another is not a weakness. You ought to know. It is a connection—a strength to both."

"So you say," Visas said bitterly, "But it is not something I have observed."

"Because you have been hurt, and taken away from connection and kindness, into the dark and cold and empty places. But if you stay with me, I'll show you," I promised her. "Rest now. I will return."

Visas lay back on the cot without demur, but I could see through the Force that she would not sleep for a long time.

It was my turn to clean the synthesizer and wash the trays and utensils that night, but after I had, I returned to the dormitory. Kreia was sitting there on her bunk, facing me with lips firm and arms folded.

"Ah, am I in trouble?" I asked, recognizing the signs.

"You have befriended the seer."

"Visas needs a friend," I replied, sitting on my bunk. "You call her a seer because of how she sees?"

"Perceiving the galaxy through the Force is a rare gift, squandered on her people," Kreia said bitterly. "The Sith carry the battle to you, and you spare them. And as we travel, the empty spaces of this ship are filled. I hope your thoughts on this matter are clear. If you take her on as a servant, know that the Sith meet their end at the hands of their apprentices. It is not something I would wish to happen to you. This one you have saved has other masters. Though blind, she has ties to darkness. Her presence here is a threat to us. To you. Do not underestimate her…or her loyalty."

Her lecturing pissed me off, Aithne. "Don't trust them, don't trust them, don't trust them!" I burst out angrily. "That's all I get from you. Don't trust Atton—he's a fool and his thoughts are slippery. Don't trust the Handmaiden—she serves Atris and won't forget it. Don't trust Visas—she might be loyal to the 'Master' that destroyed her world and gave her every scar on her body! You didn't see it, Kreia! You didn't talk to her! Besides, if there's anyone on board this ship I don't trust, it's you."

Kreia was unaccountably pleased by this. "Then you are learning."

I sighed. It was useless going over it again with Kreia. But I might find out more from her. "Visas told me how her planet was destroyed. Atton said it was the only colony of her people in this sector of the galaxy."

"Did he?" Kreia said, with that contemptuous curl of the lip she only ever used when I mentioned Atton. I fought back my annoyance. "And what do you make of that?"

"Her people see through the Force. She's damaged, but she still sensed me across the galaxy, was able to track me to Dxun. A whole world of _undamaged_ people like that—it occurs to me that the Sith wouldn't want that much clear sight around when they're trying to move in shadow."

"The Mandalorians were right to respect you on the field of battle," Kreia approved, a rare compliment. "The Jedi are gone, vanished, and now an entire planet of Force Sensitives has been wiped clean of life. Now this slice of the galaxy is blind. It is no coincidence; the two events are tied."

I tapped my fingers on my knee. "You're saying Visas' Master—maybe all of the Sith—want this sector of the galaxy blind to the Force. So they can move freely…or strike without warning."

"I fear it is so," Kreia confirmed. "And I fear it may prove more than that. War is hunger. And there are spirits in the galaxy whose hunger is never satisfied. But there is little to be done about it now. Watch the seer carefully—she may reveal more."

I hesitated. "Can we talk about her Master now?" I asked. "He is the one, isn't he? Not Sion, but the one who's consumed by hunger?"

Kreia's lips tightened and her face beneath her hood paled. "Yes. He…if he can truly be called a man any longer, he is one of the Dark Lords that pursues you. I do not think he knows what you are. Not yet. He spared the Miraluka, and that may have been the last shred of feeling that existed within him. Keep his slave close to you. I suspect there was a reason he spared her…and perhaps a reason that she survived when the rest of her people and the Jedi did not."

"The Jedi?" I repeated, thoroughly taken aback.

"Yes, did she not tell you? Or did you not ask why he acted when he did, and not at any other time? The Jedi went to Katarr, hoping that among the Miraluka they could shed light upon the darkness that assailed them. But any gathering of Jedi he cannot for long. They found the darkness they sought. He came, and the Jedi were destroyed, and Katarr was destroyed." Kreia said.

* * *

_"Then that was…Bastila was killed at Katarr," Aithne said. "You said she died with the last of the Jedi when they got together to try to figure things out. When did it happen?"_

_ "As near as I can make out, about two years before Visas joined me. A little over a year after you'd gone."_

_ "Bastila was my best friend," Aithne said quietly. "A self-righteous, uppity, stick-in-the-mud, entitled princess when I met her, but she grew _so_ much. Even when I met her, though, she believed in the Jedi ideals of compassion and forgiveness—_really_ believed, and acted on them—more than any other Jedi I've known since my capture. More than any Jedi I've ever heard of. She was the first one to spare me, the first one to decide I deserved a chance, even after the Council had told her otherwise. She defied Malak once to save me, and was captured. She fell, but later she faced up to it with responsibility, and came back. She came back better, less unyielding, more willing to acknowledge ambiguities, more ready to learn, and all that was left from before was her compassion, and her kindness." _

_ ''She gave you the benefit of the doubt once, and saved you. And it…it brought her back, didn't it? After Malak got her," Darden said. _

_ Aithne looked down. "I thought I'd chosen the Light Side for good," she said. "I thought I'd never go back, that I'd return to the Republic, the prodigal Knight, help rebuild, start a…never mind that, though. I couldn't get who I'd been out of my head, couldn't stop feeling the Dark Side pulsing in me, like a wound. I couldn't get out from under Revan's shadow. It followed me and everyone I loved. And then I broke every promise I made to them all when I left, and I didn't even defeat the evil I set out to defeat. Didn't even know how to defeat it. Now it turns out you did, and I betrayed…I…"Aithne clutched her head in her hands and shook. "Maybe I haven't fallen again, but I still can't be trusted," she muttered. "And now half of them are dead, anyway."_

_ "A third, not half. There are six of them still alive, and they're still waiting for you. They still believe in you, and I do, too." _

_ When Aithne didn't answer, Darden continued her tale._

* * *

The notion that the Sith Lord of Hunger had destroyed dozens of Jedi at Katarr brought home to me for the first time why Kreia might be afraid of him, why Visas insisted that I be ready before I even started looking for him. "Why did he spare Visas?" I asked.

"Perhaps he is bound to her as I am bound to you. If so, there may be a death served by hers. You must be prepared to sacrifice the blinded one. Perhaps her death will buy you the time you need to deal with her Master."

I restrained myself from snapping at her only by remembering I wanted information, not another lecture. I sidestepped the suggestion entirely. "Katarr was destroyed. Visas told me how it was _not_ done, but not how. Can you tell me more?"

"It is a technique that is almost as old as the Sith themselves," Kreia said. "A means of severing connections between life, the Force, and feeding on the death it causes. It cannot be taught…it can only be gained through instinct, through experiencing its effects, firsthand."

I twisted the sheets of my bunk in my hands. "He used it to kill an entire planet," I whispered.

"Yes, and fed upon its destruction. It will sustain him, for a time."

"And through acting like this; exercising this power and living only to hunger, her Master has ceased to be a man?"

"One cannot have the power of that magnitude that her Master possesses and still think and perceive the universe as we do," Kreia replied. "I had hoped that you would not have to confront him, but her presence here has changed all of that. You will have to meet him in battle."

"Battle," I mused. "Visas showed me how she sees, but she can do more than that. She can actually affect the perceptions of others. When she attacked, for a while, I was blinded."

Kreia snorted. "And yet you triumphed. There are other ways of perceiving the galaxy than through crude matter. Other ways of seeing—and other ways of hearing. Close your eyes."

I knew a lesson when I heard one. Far be it from me to neglect an opportunity to learn. I closed my eyes.

"Feel this ship around you. The welding of the droid as it goes about its work."

The Force flowed through the ship, out through me, and I sensed Teethree just as Bao-Dur had done that very afternoon. "Oh—I should repair him—one of his motivators—"

"Shh. Now stretch out. Hear the rumble of hyperspace, the hum of the hyperdrive."

Teethree was in the engine room, and just past him, I sensed they hyperdrive. There was a catch in it, and I started to tell Kreia, but of course, she already knew.

"Ignore distractions," Kreia ordered. "Focus on my voice. The breathing of the blinded one as she meditates in the dark. Now listen deeper. Past her breathing, and listen."

What Kreia wanted me to do was different than what I'd done earlier. She wasn't asking me to _perceive_ Visas through the Force, which is a sort of heightened emotional and aura sensing, but to listen to her through the Force. I did. I listened past the sound of Visas' breathing, and I heard.

**As my feet walk from the ashes of Katarr, I shall not fear, for in fear, lies death, and…**

My eyes snapped open and I retreated inside my mind again like lightning. "I heard her thoughts. I didn't just sense her emotions. I didn't just feel her presence. I didn't even talk to her mind to mind with mutual permission. I—"

"You are strong indeed," Kreia said. "What you heard were surface thoughts only, but it is something that Masters have trained for years and never learned."

I was horrified. "How—I wasn't—"

"Such listening is not enough to perceive the world around you. Cease your worrying," Kreia said. "To listen to the thoughts of another is much like attempting to see the universe only with your eyes. It is equally limiting."

"But you—you listen this way all the time, don't you?"

Some of Kreia's words to me took on a new, sinister significance. She'd said Atton's thoughts were slippery, that the discipline of Atris' handmaiden's minds kept them blind to the Force. I wondered how often she was in my head, and I masked my disgust and foreboding to say, "Teach me more."

Kreia was pleased. "Very well. So you have brushed the thoughts of another. It is a start. Calm yourself. Silence your own thoughts. Keep them still."

I closed my eyes once again and struggled to do as she said.

"Imagine the waters in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, each stream suddenly falling silent and still. Imagine the ice of Telos, cold and smooth, as it gathers upon the plateau."

With effort, I was able to calm my mind and still my emotions.

"Now stretch out, feel the ship around you. Strip away the metal, and see the souls and minds of those that fill its corridors, with more thoughts and dreams and worries than can fill the space of this ship."

I sensed Visas first. I'd touched her mind most recently, and our long conversation that day had given me a feel for her mind.

**As my feet walk the ashes of Katarr, I shall not fear, for in fear, lies death, and…**

I heard another voice, worried, calculating. **If I upped the tibanna gas levels in the carbine that would be enough to punch a hole even in triple-durasteel, and we'll need weapons like that if the Republic discovers the camp on Dxun…**

In the cargo hold there was an elevated heart rate, pumping blood to limbs still kicking and punching, going through endless, endless drills. **If father had had her strength, would he be here today? If he had had her conviction? Does his shame, his weakness echo in me now? Is that what I feel when I fight with her, for her? I must train…**

There was still another voice, in the cockpit. **…switch the face of the +1/-1 card, the totals are nine-ten. Switch the face of the +2/-2 card the total is eight eleven. Switch…**

Atton's wasn't a coherent thought. It didn't make any sense. I wanted to stay with him, figure out what he was doing, but another mind touched mine, recognizing my presence moving across the ship with the Force. **Your command echoes still, General. And I obey, as I did at Malachor.**

"Now," Kreia murmured, "Focus on _my _voice."

Bao-Dur pulled at me—I felt him gently question what I was doing, but I left his mind and focused on Kreia.

**Now. Do you hear me? Truly hear me?**

All of Kreia's thoughts were focused on me, on teaching me. At least the surface ones she'd taught me to listen to. **I…I do. This is—**

I opened my mind and withdrew into my own consciousness again. It was frightening, Aithne. It was invasive. I built my mental wall, to keep her out.

"You have taken the first steps down a much longer road," Kreia murmured.

"What about Teethree?" I asked her. "I heard him before."

"You sensed his presence, heard him moving," Kreia corrected. "The droid cannot be read in such a way—as for the alien that served with you in the war, its thoughts are more difficult, requiring many translations in meaning. Often it is better to read their impulses and images than their spoken thoughts. That is why he is deaf to you. I have found his impulses are dead—like a cold weight. His thoughts are black."

"They aren't," I said, without thinking. "In fact, he was the only one that—"

I stopped, realizing that if Kreia couldn't read Bao-Dur, I didn't want her learning.

"You heard something from him?" Kreia asked sharply. "It is strange that I did not." I felt her sightless eyes searching my face, felt her probing the wall between our minds. I could not withstand the pressure, so I let it down.

"I served with him," I said carefully, making sure to think only what I told Kreia. "We went through Malachor together. And—I am training him, and when I speak of him, I use his name."

Kreia scowled. "Perhaps. I would not put much weight on such things."

I hesitated. "I did hear Bao-Dur, and he sensed me listening, but that wasn't what was really weird. Atton—"

Kreia smiled. "Ah, yes. You noticed. Atton is not playing pazaak, yet he counts cards in his head. At times, he will list off engine sequencers, memorize the hyperspace routes on the other side of the galaxy, count the ticking in the power couplings even though they are fixed." She dropped her voice and frowned. "At other times…he will imagine certain…base lusts, certain indignities. It may be that Atton is far cleverer than he feigns to be. Or perhaps he is simply a fool."

* * *

_Darden paused then. Aithne looked up inquiringly, and was surprised to see Darden's tan cheeks turn dusky rose as she blushed. "I'm talking to _all_ of you," Darden told her. "This story is for _all_ of you. It's not just for my old commander, someone who has a right and a responsibility to know what's happened since the Jedi Civil War. The story isn't just business, and I'm not speaking to a general or a Jedi. I'm speaking to _all_ of you, Aithne," she repeated a third time. "I wouldn't include this next bit if I weren't. Probably wouldn't have said a lot of things. Some of…some of it's very personal, and that…that's hard for me. But when I tell you things like that, I'm me, okay? Not an exile, not a Jedi, not a war veteran."_

_ Aithne sat up. "A woman," she said softly. "Some of the time, you're just a woman telling your story to another woman. It's okay. You're one of the handful of people in the galaxy that's earned the right to speak to me on whatever terms you like."_

_ "I know…I know it's hard for you, too," Darden said, carefully. _

_ Aithne forced a smile. "Extremely. But sometimes the hardest things to hear are the things I need to hear most. You know, like the time Malak told me I used to be the Dark Lord of the Sith."_

_ Darden blinked, then laughed incredulously. "It can't be as bad as all that," she said._

_ Aithne laughed, too. "No," she confessed. "But I don't like being a woman any more than you did a year ago—it's a part of myself I sacrificed at the altar of my past, and hearing you..."she hissed in a breath through her teeth, and tried to laugh, but the pain rolling off her was so intense that Darden winced for her. "…it makes that scar _ache_. But go on. Tell me how Atton was under your skin and in your head, how you hated it but didn't want it to stop, all the same." Her words were light, sarcastic, full of pain, but not bitter. Instead, she smiled at Darden._

_"I'd like to tell you all of my story," Darden said, not unkindly. "Not that it's not hard, for both of us—admittedly harder for you- but because—like you said—I think you need to hear it. I think you need to relearn what I learned."_

_ "Maybe," Aithne conceded._

_ Darden sighed, then blushed again. Then she continued._

* * *

Kreia seemed to be finished talking. I lay back on my bunk. His thoughts are slippery, Kreia had said, when she'd first sensed Atton. Kreia didn't understand Bao-Dur, and so she couldn't sense him. But it seemed that Atton could hold her off. I myself rarely sensed anything from him, and I wanted to know why. I rolled over, away from Kreia. I closed my eyes and stretched out again with the Force. I ignored Kreia, ignored Bao-Dur, swept past Visas and Mandalore and the Handmaiden and focused on Atton's mental voice. I focused so hard I could _see_ the pazaak cards in his head.

Out of nowhere, the image changed. And Aithne, I saw myself. You…uh…you probably know where this is going. It was like the holovids the men watched on their time off during the wars, but it was _me_, not some porn actress, up against the wall of the cockpit in Atton's head. And in his head, I was _extremely_ enthusiastic. I didn't even recognize the expressions he painted on my face, but I saw what he imagined himself doing to me, and saw how he imagined me responding. I felt his heart rate go up, and experienced first-hand the lust that burned in him like a fusion reactor.

It took less than a second, but that was enough. I was out of his head so fast I got mental vertigo. When I opened my eyes, it was dark. Kreia had shut off the dormitory light. My stomach flipped and my heart pounded. I moved to kick off the sheet, to dispel the heat, only to find I'd never drawn it over me in the first place. Kreia had warned me about Atton's thoughts, but I hadn't ever imagined how vivid it would be.

There's a huge difference between innuendo and an inappropriately long glance and seeing, hearing, _feeling_ a man's lust. To me, it almost felt like we'd actually had sex, like he'd used me without my consent, violated me. Of course in reality, it was the other way around. Fantasies are meant to be private, or shared only between two people that are actually lovers, as a gift.

But it was too late. I'd seen it, and I knew I'd never be able to look at Atton the same way again, or forget what he thought to himself, alone in the cockpit. It was seven days before I could bring myself to talk to him again.

In the end I decided to speak to him not because of what I'd seen, but because of what it meant. Kreia couldn't access Atton's thoughts, couldn't get past the streams of irrelevant information or the—feelings he threw up to get to what he actually thought, and it was important I know how he did it.

Look, Aithne, I knew I was playing a dangerous game with everyone aboard. The Handmaiden was spying for Atris. Visas was a Sith with a Sith Lord Master intent on my destruction, and the destruction of life everywhere. Helping Mandalore helped the Mandalorians, and if it wouldn't help them conquer the Republic or burn worlds again, it definitely could cause problems. I was still very uncertain if I could train Bao-Dur well, if I wasn't even hurting him by trying. And Kreia had an agenda: quite possibly a Sith agenda. She read thoughts without apology and asked me to use others without a thought to anyone else's wellbeing.

With Atton it was the same dangerous game. I still didn't know why he'd decided to come with me. I didn't know who he had been, where he had received his Echani training or to what purpose it had been used. I knew he could be dangerous. So far he'd been a help, but I sensed he could be a threat, that perhaps becoming a threat had crossed his mind.

But there was another layer to the game with Atton. I knew war, risks, strategies and allies through and through. But I didn't know men and I didn't know sex. I couldn't understand what it was that Atton wanted, though I'd seen it, and I didn't understand how I felt about it. And the not understanding? _That_ scared me half to death.

I knew I couldn't hide from it, though, that any cowardice would only weaken me. And besides, I needed him. So seven days after I'd dropped in on Atton's head, I steeled my nerves and walked up to the cockpit. His feet were up on the instrument's panel, and he was staring into hyperspace.

"Hello, stranger," he said.

I stood behind the pilot's chair, just breathing. When it came out, it was awkward and rushed. "Why do you play pazaak in your head?"

The temperature of the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. I saw Atton's shoulders go ramrod stiff. But nevertheless, he answered, "Passes the time. It's better than listing off engine sequencers, memorizing hyperspace routes, or counting ticks in the power couplings."

"There are no ticks in the power couplings," I said. "They're fixed."

He took down his feet and turned so his chair was facing me. "Of course it's fixed," he said slowly, deliberately. "And that's why you should count the ticking in the power coupling, too."

His words confirmed the purposefulness of the activity. I breathed in deeply and sat down in the co-pilot's chair. "You don't trust her, either," I whispered.

Atton's eyes flicked to the open door. "Look, I'll show you," he said. "Let's play pazaak."

"Republic Senate rules?" I asked, fishing my side deck from where I kept it under the co-pilot's seat, as Atton was the only one onboard that played.

Atton agreed, and he dealt. We played. I took an early lead, but he outwaited me, outlasted me, and came back and won decisively. Again.

I sighed, but Atton smiled. "It was a good match. Now. What are you thinking about? Right now," he asked me.

"I'm thinking about pazaak, and how if we ever played for credits I'd owe you several hundred."

"Right. Just that," Atton said. "And that's why I play pazaak in my head. Because if you don't, you've left the door open. And anyone could walk right in."

I bit my lip. "Atton—I walked in. With Kreia's help. Or I tried. At first, it was just pazaak, but then—"I swallowed and couldn't look at him anymore. "I'm sorry."

Atton leaned back in his chair and folded his arm. "Didn't like what you saw, did you, sweetheart? You see Jedi, light or dark, do it, more often than you'd think. But I never heard one say they were sorry before. That's a new house rule."

"Agreed. But—the pazaak. Counting ticks in the power couplings. Hyperspace routes. Even—the other stuff, maybe? You do it to shield your thoughts?"

Atton leaned forward again, holding my gaze. "No," he said, very clearly. "I play pazaak in my head. But while I'm doing that, it's a lot harder for someone to walk in."

"Can you teach me? I think it'd be useful to—"

"No," Atton interrupted. "I can only teach you to play pazaak. Do you understand what I'm saying, sweetheart?"

I did. He was saying that the minute you start thinking about shielding your thoughts, you're not doing it anymore, and a Jedi can read you. I wondered how in the galaxy he knew that. "I understand," I told him. "Teach me to play pazaak."

"Good. Now you understand. All right. I'll deal, then."

This time, though, he didn't shuffle the cards. Instead, he started talking me through a game. I had to keep track of draws and plays on both sides in my head, and keep the totals going. I had to remember how many cards from the hand I'd played, how many my opponent had played. I could build my hand myself, so long as I remembered which cards I'd played already. Focusing on the mental game, without the visual aid, required all my concentration. As we talked through the game, Atton held my gaze across the aisle, willing me to get the technique, to use what he taught me to defend myself with a focus I hadn't ever attributed to him.

I'd never encountered a will as strong as Atton's before. He won the game again, though this time just barely, since I made my own hand. After the game was done, he was quiet for a long time. I sat on the edge of my seat, watching him, fascinated.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "If you're ever fighting someone who has power over your mind, whether light or dark…play pazaak. Start listing hyperspace routes. Recite engine sequencers. And when they try to use their powers on you, suddenly it's not as easy as they thought. Because you'll be right here with me, playing pazaak, where they can't reach you."

What I'd seen the week before had changed things between us, and his words changed things again. Atton had revealed a big part of himself to me, teaching me his pazaak technique, and he was very aware of it. He had done it to protect me from Kreia, whom he apparently distrusted just as much, or more, than I did. And he didn't want to protect me just because he wanted me someday. For the first time I caught a glimpse of what Atton really wanted from me, and I started to get an idea of who Atton was. And both scared me far worse than what I'd seen the week before. I shivered, but I held his gaze.

I picked up a card off my side deck and flipped over a +5. "You win almost every time." Despite my efforts, my voice trembled. "You're usually so good at it. Pazaak. But it's a bluff, Atton. You're always bluffing. Then you don't get hurt, and I'm uncomfortable, but I'm not scared." I couldn't help whispering as I told him, "You're slipping. I'm scared."

Atton's pupils dilated and he leaned forward. "Why?" he whispered back.

My breath came in shuddering gasps. My face was heating up. I had the wildest impulse to look away, to get up and bolt, but I didn't. "Because—because—I don't know."

Atton smiled bitterly, self-mockingly, like he'd known I'd say that. In a slow, controlled movement, he took the +5 pazaak card from where I held it on my lap, only just brushing my leg with the tips of his fingers, and he put it down underneath the seat with the rest of my side deck. "Then don't call me on my bluff just yet, sweetheart. Not until and unless you want to raise the stakes and really play." He turned away.

I shivered again. I stood, too quickly. I banged my knee on the chair. It throbbed in painful protest, but I started walking, ignoring the hurt. But just before I left the cockpit, I stopped. I turned. I bit my lip and swallowed. "Atton? Someday I might."

* * *

_ "Might 'play pazaak' with Atton Rand," Aithne said. "You'd have to _really_ raise the stakes, wouldn't you? Darden, I wasn't kidding about the conditioning Rand might've had. I'm serious—I have a bad feeling about him. If he hadn't decided he _liked_ you…"_

_ "I'd be dead," Darden said. "Kreia aside, Atton was the most dangerous member of my crew, even though the Handmaiden—Brianna—was the better fighter. I know that. Do you know what he was, then?"_

_ Aithne hesitated. "I only know what it looks like," she said. "Atton's described as having a very unique skill set, and his base impulses seem…unpleasant, contradicted because he had a break with whatever taught them to him, and because he couldn't make them mesh with his feelings for you. On the one hand, he'd obviously left whatever he did in the past and lived on the fringes for a couple years before you two met, otherwise his placement and early conflict anxiety make no sense because on the other hand, he's trained both mentally and physically for what seems to be—"_

_ "—Combat of the highest order, or even infiltration, assassination, and interrogation—giving or receiving," Darden finished. "With both familiarity with and special hatred for Jedi and Sith alike."_

_ Aithne looked at her friend, once again overwhelmingly conscious of her own hypocrisy. Reason dictated that whatever Atton had done, it could not be worse than what Aithne herself had done in the past, and yet, the loyalty of friendship screamed that if Darden was romantically involved with Atton, or had been, it was very dangerous for her. _

_ Just then, Darden's outer armor started rattling as something beneath it buzzed. Darden had removed it and placed it off to the side, relaxing in her undershirt and pants with Aithne as she told the story. Now, she jumped. "Shavit! Forgot!" She dove into the pile, and came out with a com-link. She hit the button._

_ Aithne heard a sardonic male voice on the other end. "Well. At least you're not dead. Just where the hell are you, anyway? You were supposed to be back hours ago, or at least contact us if you had any problems. Republic's freaking."_

_ "I'm sorry," Darden said. "No problems—quite the opposite, in fact. I found her."_

_ "You—no way. You actually found her?" Aithne had a nasty apprehension that Darden's friend was the same Atton they'd been talking about. Darden had said he wasn't dead. And if he was still with her…_

_ "I did," Darden said. "Been in her room for hours, explaining to her why she should leave with us tomorrow on the _Ebon Hawk_."_

_ "If Atton's worried about you, send him a map," Aithne suggested suddenly. Damn her feelings of hypocrisy, she decided. If Atton Rand was what she thought he was, retained the slightest vestige of what he'd used to be, and Darden didn't know every bit of it, Aithne would protect the other woman from harm, even if Darden found it painful. _

_ "I'd love to meet the famous Atton Rand, since we're going to be up all night, anyway," Aithne added. "He could tell some of the story, and you could rest."_

_ Darden regarded her with narrowed green eyes, but she said into the com-link, "Did you get that, Atton?"_

_ "Yeah. Be over in a bit," said the man on the other end of the com-link. Darden pressed a button on the com-link to transmit her location, then shut it off. _

_ "From where we left the ship, he ought to be here in about an hour," she said. "Aithne—it's okay. It's really okay. Atton's past—you're right. It's not pleasant. But I'd guessed that much even then, and since, he's told me all about it. He _did_ leave. He changed before he even met me, and he went on to change further still. You know better than anyone how people can change."_

_ "And how they stay the same," Aithne said. "I'll reserve judgment, if you don't mind."_

_ "Judgment, no. You can think whatever the hell you like. But I won't have you take action against him, Aithne," Darden said. "He's proven himself to me, and that's what matters."_

_ Aithne considered this. She inclined her head then. "Are we going to wait for him?"_

_ "We don't have to," Darden said. _

_ "Then let's not. You have what? Twenty-two months of time left to tell me about?"_

_ "Just about," Darden agreed. "Well—ten. We've been looking for you for a year. Nothing anything as exciting as the year before that." _

_ "So. You were bound for Nar Shaddaa…"_

_ "Yes…this next bit will be one you won't like," Darden warned. "Or one you'll at least find painful to hear. We were in hyperspace two more weeks…_

* * *

**Coming 6/12: Darden relates how she first learned of the **_**Ebon Hawk**_** and Mandalore's previous history with Aithne, and the story brings about an emotional discussion of the multiple factors that led to Aithne's reluctant abandonment of her family and friends.**

**And 6/16: Atton arrives just as Darden begins telling how she finally learned of his past. **

** Kat M, Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I hope you continue to enjoy it. **

**May the Force be with you,**

**LMSharp **


	19. XVII

**Disclaimer: This is an original, AU deviation from a plotline manufactured by someone else, including characters manufactured by someone else. Because I didn't have the first idea, credit goes to the people that did.**

* * *

XVII.

Owners of the _Ebon Hawk_

_ "Even in orbit, I could feel the life emanating from Nar Shaddaa. Ships flew around it in droves, like hive insects. I was up in the cockpit with Atton, trying to decide how best to approach the two massive problems facing us on this moon of a few billion people. Mandalore was with us. He had his own challenges to face on the world._

"Well, here we are," Atton said, looking down at the place. "The Smuggler's Moon. It's the gaping maw of Nal Hutta, swallowing up all the cargo and space port thugs the galaxy has to offer. Mandalorians, mercenaries, war veterans, and pilots from the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War ended up on Nar Shaddaa, from all sides of the conflict. When the last war ended, there was no place left for them to go."

"Too many Mandalorians were scattered after the war," Mandalore observed. "Without purpose and without direction, most became little more than raiders. I hope to find some of my people here."

"It won't be easy," Atton told him. "I mean, easier than finding that Zocam Eye guy—"he paused and looked sideways at me, waiting for correction. Atton liked purposely mispronouncing Zez-Kai Ell's name to get a reaction from me. I didn't give him the satisfaction this time. Somewhat disappointed, he continued, "—he's just one in about three billion. There ought to be several Mandalorians here, but still. There's so much traffic on this moon that finding anyone on the surface is going to be hard. Nar Shaddaa's easy to get lost in. Or for someone to get lost," he added. "We could probably hide out here for a few months. Keep out of sight of the Sith. You couldn't pick a better spot."

I drew my feet up into my chair and wrapped my arms around my knees. "So. A lot of soldiers here, huh?"

"Yeah. Some came looking for work running freight and cargo. Still, there's only so many ships to go around and so many workers. So others lend their weapons to the Hutts and the Exchange. It's become a prime base for raider recruitment across the galaxy.

"We're going to touch down in the Refugee Sector," he told me. "There's a lot more traffic there, and it's harder for people to spot you coming in…or find you once you arrive."

"Are we going to spend the entire time hiding?" Mandalore asked, with some distaste.

"We won't be able to," I said. "If we're going to find the people we need to here, we're going to have to make some noise. Still, it's a good idea to keep the ship hidden, at least. Take us in."

"We should touch down within the hour," Atton said. "Once we're down, we should finally be able to breathe easy. There's no way anyone's going to find us here."

An hour later, the entire crew stood on a landing pad, looking around at the towering skyscrapers and gaping chasms that make up the Smuggler's Moon. The landing pad Atton had put us down on was deserted and neglected, but ships filled the sky, bound in every direction. The stars were invisible, for all the lights up there. A smell of unwashed bodies and trash filled the air. The Handmaiden wrinkled her nose.

Atton winked at the Echani girl. "Ah, the beautiful stench and decay of desperate living." The Handmaiden scowled at him.

* * *

_ "You could just call her Brianna," Aithne pointed out._

_ "I'm trying to tell the story as it happened to me, so you know what I saw at the time, what I learned," Darden said. "Not just the events. I didn't know her name was Brianna at that point, so in-story, she's the Handmaiden."_

_ "That's stupid," Aithne said. "Brianna's much easier. And prettier."_

_ "Well, yeah. But she didn't use it, so I didn't use it, and won't until I get to the point when I learned it," Darden said. "It's an artistic decision."_

_ Aithne made a rude noise. Darden was surprised into grinning. Then she continued._

* * *

"This moon…it teems with life," Kreia remarked, uneasy. "It is difficult to center oneself."

"Never have I been to a place so alive with the Force, yet so dead to it," Visas agreed. "The contrast is like a blade."

"Welcome to Nar Shaddaa," Atton said, "Towering buildings kilometers high and miles deep, with canyons so wide you could have a dogfight in them. Word of warning—watch where you step, or you'll fall for hours."

There was no hangar, no bay around the landing pad to prevent the _Ebon Hawk_ from being seen by all and sundry. And on a world so full of traffic, I couldn't help but imagine landing space was a commodity. "Are we going to be okay on this landing pad?" I asked Atton.

"Sure, most of the landing pads around here are unclaimed. Or should be. They're pretty badly maintained, so they're not safe to land on." The tips of his ears reddened, and he hastily added, "Well, I mean, not this one, but they all have the reputation, so we should be all right. I think."

I looked pointedly at the lights around the pad. Several were out, and I could see more than one rust patch. "Thanks _so _much. The ship just seems a little exposed here, is all."

"We are very vulnerable to attack on this pad," the Handmaiden agreed.

"Maybe a little," conceded Atton, "But landing here means we didn't have to transmit our ID signature, and you know the trouble that caused on Onderon. In fact, while we're here, we should get those signatures changed. Would make it so we're not such a target when we entered a new system."

I was impressed. "That's a good idea."

"Were there any problems with the docking authorities?" Bao-Dur asked. "If trouble's coming, I'd just as soon know it now."

Atton grinned. "No, but I forgot to tell them we were landing. The Refugee Sector's a dead zone. No one cares too much who flies in and out of here as long as they're not carrying cargo that the Exchange or the Hutts might want a piece of."

"Fine, then let's go," I said.

"All right, sure," Atton said. "Uh…where are we headed, exactly?"

"It does not matter where we go," Kreia said. "If what we seek is here, we shall come upon it in due time."

Atton shot Kreia a disgusted look. "Uh…yeah. If you want to stay on the ship and meditate some more, don't let us stop you."

I looked Kreia over. In the long, plain, brown robe with the deep hood she insisted upon wearing, she practically screamed 'Jedi.' "Unless you change clothes, Kreia, you'll attract attention just as much as if you went naked."

"Er—more, actually," Atton said, with something halfway between a grimace and a smile. The Handmaiden wrinkled her nose again.

"It's probably a good idea if you do stay here," I told Kreia. The old woman frowned, but gave a frosty bow of acknowledgment. I looked at the rest of my companions. "I guess the rest of you can go where you want. Just—keep a weapon, try _not_ to keep credits, and stay in groups of at least two—but not too big, or you'll look like a crew some gang of thugs might think they can take down for credits or gear." I stopped, realizing I sounded extremely maternal. "Just—use your common sense," I finished. "This is a rough place."

"You aren't going off alone, are you, General?" Bao-Dur asked.

I laughed. "Force, no. Atton? You seem to have knowledge of the area. You want to come with me? And, uh—Mandalore and the Handmaiden, too, if you want."

I guess the companion choice was a little obvious. Atton folded his arms. "I'd be happy to show you around, sweetheart, but what are we doing?"

I swallowed. "Well—I said the only way we're going to find anyone is if we make some noise. So I figure—we're going to make some noise."

"Uh-huh," Mandalore said, sounding amused. "And you want me and the Handmaiden along in case things get ugly."

"I'm hoping they won't," I said quickly. "The trick will be to make noise without letting anyone find out where we're coming from. But I want to find out about that bounty and Goto."

Atton had hoped to lay low, I knew. He seemed to think for some reason that he could keep me safe on Nar Shaddaa. He looked incredibly unenthusiastic as I spoke. "Well," he said. "That means either finding a bounty hunter, a ranking member of the Exchange, or someone willing to talk—none of which are too appealing. Bounty hunters and the Exchange are going to want to shoot you, and someone who is willing to talk is willing to talk to anyone, which means trouble. It'd be a better idea to just lay low."

"The bounty is a waste of your efforts," Kreia said, glaring at me from beneath her capacious hood. "All that matters is the Jedi—the intentions of the thugs of this moon are of no consequence."

For the first time ever I was grateful to the old woman for her disapproval, because Atton's antipathy for her worked in my favor. He straightened up and glared over his shoulder at Kreia. "It's up to you," he told me. "There's bound to be someone in the sector willing to spill their guts for a credit or two."

I started walking, but then stopped. "Kreia—it's not just the bounty, okay? I figure the only way we're going to find Zez-Kai Ell, if he's here at all, is to make noise. It's a shoot two iriaz with one bolt kind of thing."

Kreia didn't reply. Atton was checking his blaster. Satisfied, he holstered it again. "If you have any questions, just ask. We should be able to leave the ship here as long as we want. No one supervises these landing pads anymore."

"Hey! You! You there!" an angry voice yelled from the passage to the sector. I turned to see an albino Toydarian flying toward us. He was uniformed, and wearing a nametag that read 'Quello.'

"Uh-oh," Atton muttered. I glared at him, then stepped up to the Toydarion, fake smile in place.

"What's with you, letting that piece of junk sink its struts into my landing pad?" Quello demanded.

It was a fifty-fifty chance, so I took a guess. "The Exchange doesn't think my ship is a piece of junk. They said I could land here."

If it was Hutt territory we were done for, but I'd guessed right, and Quello flew back a few feet. "Yeah? Well this is the first I've heard of it. Tell you what, let me check it out—if you're cleared, then you're clear, no trouble."

I raised an eyebrow and looked down my nose. "Go ahead and check it out, then. I'll be sure to tell my boss who delayed me when I'm late making my drop—Quello, is it?"

Quello backed up another foot. "Hmm. Ah, never mind. It's not worth the trouble. I gotta tell you, though, I got another one of your ships set to dock here soon—could be an hour, could be a couple days…if you're not out of here by then I'm not sure what to tell them."

"Just divert them to another landing pad," I said. "There are plenty of empty ones."

Quello looked uncertain, but he flew away anyway. I kept up my fake smile until he was gone, then I rounded on Atton. "No one supervises the landing pads, huh?"

"Yeah, well…"

"Spacebrain," I laughed at him. I looked back over at the _Ebon Hawk_. Bao-Dur and Visas were talking quietly. Visas had been sitting in on his training sessions this last week, and the two of them were friendly. I thought they might go off later to explore together. Teethree and Kreia had gone back into the ship. Mandalore was just coming out again, bearing his repeating blaster rifle and pack.

"You're coming?"

"It's likely that we'll run into Mandalorians to join the cause. And even if we don't, there'll at least be a good fight. I'm coming."

I looked over at the Handmaiden, but the girl was staring at Atton and me with a very odd expression. "I—I do not think I will accompany you," she said. "Not this time. Though the Mandalorian has some purpose accompanying you, I would not wish to—that is, I need to train."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself. See you later. Ward off anybody that tries to steal this landing pad no one cares about, will you?"

"Ah, really, Darden? Are you going to keep on about that?" Atton complained. He fell into step as I started for the sector main.

I raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. There followed the beginning of a rampage.

Someone I met later said I stampeded across the sector like a bantha, and if I do say so myself, I was kind of epic, even that first day. And I'm not going to lie, it was fun. I arranged for a change in management at the local swoop track. I bought lightsaber crystals from two different vendors (as well as another part for the still broken HK-47 in the forward cargo compartment) in full sight of the entire populace. I stopped groups of Exchange thugs from beating up two different people.

It drove Atton crazy, especially since the last man I'd rescued from the Exchange had first tried to pin the debt the thugs were trying to collect on us and make a break for it. After the man and the Exchange had all gone and I deactivated my lightsaber, Atton spoke up. "It's a good thing the bounty hunters have a truce on-world, sweetheart. You couldn't get any more obvious if you tattooed 'Jedi' across your forehead."

"That's the idea," I said. "Besides, that guy wasn't worth killing, and neither were they. I could help him, and the others. I've tried to help where I can, since Malachor."

"We shouldn't waste our time with the weak," Mandalore said disapprovingly.

"I don't know about that, but there are a lot of people who need help in the galaxy," Atton said. "If we stop to help each one, the Sith are going to be on us faster than anything. Let's just—do what we have to do first—then worry about everyone else."

I grimaced. "Yeah, when we've done what we have to, Atton, we may not have time to worry about everyone else, we'll be running so fast. Or…y'know, dead. I've learned to just take these moments when they come." An ex-bounty hunter up by the swoop track had said the people looking to cash in on Goto's bounty had a truce so long as I was on-world. They weren't supposed to attack me, or each other. But he'd also said that the bounty hunters these days weren't big on keeping their word. I had to find one, anyway, or an Exchange member, if I wanted to get to Goto.

Atton was clearly unhappy, but he didn't protest any further. We went on to the docks, and I sniffed around the flophouse there and did some work for the Toydarian in charge of the pylons. Mandalore found some of his Mandalorians and went off for a drink with them to talk them into leaving Nar Shaddaa, so it was just Atton and me.

The two of us had a bit of a firefight with a rogue droid and came back to find a Bith whose acquaintance we'd made murdered, apparently by another droid that had suddenly gone insane.

But I didn't persist in noisemaking until Fassa the Toydarian told me a little about his boss Vogga the Hutt's trouble with Goto. Apparently Goto had been hijacking Vogga's fuel freighters. No one knew how, but it had gotten so bad that Vogga had stopped his fuel transportation, and reserves were building up on Sleheyron.

A Hutt with an enmity with Goto and a lot of fuel to spare was too good of an opportunity to pass up, Aithne. I marched straight across the docks to where Fassa told me Vogga kept office.

Vogga wasn't exactly pleased when I charged into his office without an appointment. He glared at me with enormous, sick looking red eyes.

/Why do you defile my space, human?/ he demanded. His pet kath hounds, on either side of his couch, began to growl at his peevish tone. /You are irritating my kath hounds…and me. Speak!/

"I'm here because you have problems with Goto. Tell me about it," I said.

Atton winced at my boldness, and Vogga's slug tail thrashed. He waved his arms. /The infuriating one, Goto, he is the one I wish to see lying in a pool of blood in front of me…or with his knee bent!/ he croaked.

"Yeah. He's making trouble for your freighters?"

/I do not know how he manages it, but he preys upon my freighters. Entire shipments of fuel from Sleheyron have been hijacked by his minions. Because of this, I have been forced to cease my trading operations, which has proven quite annoying./

I tried to look as capable and confident as possible. "And built up stores of fuel on Sleheyron," I said. "Citadel Station is looking for a new fuel supplier."

/This I know,/ Vogga said. /My fuel would fetch a pretty price there, but not a drop will leave here until Goto is dealt with./

"But if I take care of Goto, you'll ship fuel there?"

The Hutt looked really interested for the first time. /What, and you would do this out of the kindness of my heart? What is your price?/ he demanded.

"Goto's annoying me, too, okay?" I said. "But if I take care of him for you, you have to give Telos a fair deal. That's my price."

Vogga was speechless for a moment. Then he started laughing. /I like you!/ he declared. /You aren't half bad for a human. I only make fair deals. But this is getting ahead of ourselves, whoever you are. First, Goto must be dealt with, or the stores of Sleheyron will remain on Sleheyron./

I bowed.

/Was there something else?/ Vogga asked. /Otherwise, see yourself to the door./

"There's nothing else," I said, and did. The kath hounds barked as Atton and I left Vogga's office.

"Well," Atton remarked. "Bao-Dur ought to be happy about that little deal, anyway. Did you have to declare war on Goto and make a bargain with a Hutt?"

"Goto declared war on me," I retorted. "As for the other: Citadel Station needs fuel and Vogga the Hutt has it. If I somehow manage to take out Goto, Vogga will honor our deal and charge a fair price, at least for a while. It's a new market, and he'll want to capitalize on it so Citadel Station doesn't find another source. He'll also be able to sell to his other buyers, and he'll remember that business with Citadel Station for less than outrageously exorbitant prices is still better than no business at all. And if he doesn't," I added, "I'll come back here and remind him how I took out Goto when he couldn't, and that I could do the same to him."

"You haven't taken out Goto yet, sweetheart," Atton pointed out.

"Well…no," I admitted. "But I will. Somehow."

Atton snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say. Look—how about we head to the cantina to look for Mandalore? Or we could grab dinner and a drink, just you and me. A last meal before you get us all killed."

We were leaving the docks, heading back to the Refugee Sector Square. I raised an eyebrow at Atton, almost positive that the suggestion we grab dinner and a drink at the cantina wasn't because we needed to find Mandalore, or because it'd been a long day and we were both hungry. My suspicions seemed to be validated. Atton kept his face too carefully casual for it to be an actually casual request. But I decided to take the chance. "What the hell," I agreed.

He was surprised, but he recovered quickly. "Right this way, then."

Mandalore was actually just coming out of the neon-lit entertainment promenade. He had the three Mandalorian clan leaders with him. As we sighted him, they shook his hand in turn and headed off.

"I was just about to head back to the ship," Mandalore said, coming up to us.

"We were going to look for you. How'd it go?"

"I convinced them to pack up and head for Dxun," Mandalore said. "They weren't too excited about enforcing here, anyway, and when I offered them a chance to reunite the clans and help restore our people to glory, they couldn't refuse."

"But you're not going with them in their ship to look for more of your people."

"You still need an extra blaster."

Atton scoffed. "Yeah, you can say that again. She's saying she's going to take out Goto now. The crime lord."

"Impressive," Mandalore said. "I'll enjoy watching you try to back that up, Leona."

I smiled ruefully. "Yeah, so it's a big challenge. But if I can take care of him, things will be considerably easier for us after. But you're right; I really could use your help."

"But not right now," Atton put in hastily. "I mean, you've already eaten, right? Darden and I haven't. You should go ahead and go back to the _Ebon Hawk_. We'll catch up with you later."

Mandalore focused on Atton, and I felt a wave of foreboding from him, but the Mandalorian didn't have a chance to comment, because a man near us spoke up.

"Wait—did you say the _Ebon Hawk_?"

The guy was a rough looking specimen of about fifty, with a face scarred and lined from years of hard living.

"Didn't think I was talking to you," Atton said coolly.

"But that's my ship," the man said. "The name's Ratrin Vhek. I'd heard she landed today around here. I've been looking for the people flying her."

"Your ship?" Atton demanded, tensing. "I'd lay off the spice if I were you—that's our ship, not yours."

"I tell you, that ship's mine," Vhek insisted.

"Can you prove it?" I asked him.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ was stolen from me during a routine run in the Mid-Rim, near the close of the Mandalorian Wars," he said.

It occurred to me that if I handled things right, this could help solve a problem. "If you can prove the ship's yours, I'll give it back to you."

Ratrin Vhek's eyes glittered. He'd been stuck here a while from the look of him, though maybe not ten years. "The registry's 34-P7JK," he said firmly. "It's got a temperamental hyperdrive, and the turrets can be sluggish and unresponsive against fast moving fighters. She's also got two secret compartments—one in the cargo hold, right near the plasteel cylinders in the back, and the second beneath the bunks in the starboard cabin."

I was impressed. I guessed Vhek probably had owned the _Ebon Hawk_ at one time, and it made me a little sorry for what I was planning to do to him.

"That's right."

"Whoa—"Atton said. "He could've gotten that information some other way than owning the ship. C'mon, he's skifting us."

I caught a wave of displeasure from Mandalore, and knew he agreed with Atton.

Ratrin Vhek squared his shoulders, though. His hand dropped close to his blaster. "So you gonna hand it over now, or are you going to be difficult?" he demanded. For all his bravado, though, I could tell he wasn't as confident as he sounded. His eyes kept flitting to my lightsaber and Mandalore's repeating blaster rifle. I guessed he thought we could take him just as much as I did.

"There won't be any need for unpleasantness. If the ship is yours, I will return it to you."

"What?" Atton yelped. "It's our ship! I mean—your ship. That I fly."

"Good to hear you aren't going to challenge it," Vhek said, trying to hide his relief. "That makes things a lot easier."

"That ship's had some proud owners," Mandalore said in a forbidding tone. "You're disgracing it by giving it away like a durasteel chip."

"What are you doing? That's going to trap us here!" Atton insisted.

I addressed Vhek. "We'll need a day or two to clear out our supplies and crew, of course. You can take possession tomorrow evening."

"I'll wait until tomorrow," Vhek said. "But not a day later. I'll be going now. Get used to solid ground beneath you." He sauntered off with such smugness that I felt much less guilty about my plan.

"Lemme shoot him in the back," Atton growled. "No one has to know."

"Someone else will do it for us," I told him quietly. "Don't waste the effort. And don't sweat it. All letting him take possession for a while will do is buy us some time. The one thing I've been worried about is how to attract attention without letting our enemies know our location to bottle us up and take us out there. Owning the _Ebon Hawk_ is like painting a neon target on your forehead, until we figure out how to change the ID codes. It'll take Vhek time to get his affairs in order and buy supplies. Couple weeks, minimum. He's been here a while. He'll start blabbing to everyone he knows about the _Ebon Hawk_, and the people after us will find him. Hell, we could do his blabbing for him. Meanwhile, we'll be able to move freely. We'll watch him, though, until he's no longer a problem."

Atton stared. Mandalore laughed, though. "Nice one, Leona. A worthy stratagem. Let the moron die for his presumption. We shall use the time he buys us."

I turned so I faced Mandalore squarely. "I'd be interested, Mandalore, to hear exactly what Ratrin Vhek presumed to take possession of, and who those proud owners you speak of were. I'd be very interested to know exactly where you know my ship from and who you knew that owned it."

"Maybe one of these days I'll tell you," Mandalore replied, a little amused. "You might be more interested than you think. I'll head back to the ship. The others ought to know we might have to clear out for a while." Without further ado he strode off.

Atton and I watched him go. "Is that his angle, then?" Atton asked me. "The _ship_? _Really_?"

"Yeah," I said. "He's helping because he needs to stop the Sith and find the Mandalorians, but more than that, because of the ship," I said, puzzled. "I haven't figured out exactly where the _Ebon Hawk_ comes into it with Mandalore, but he knows something about it, alright."

Mandalore rounded the corner, and I shrugged, dismissing the mystery. "So. Dinner?" I asked Atton.

"Dinner."

The cantina was actually kind of slow, Aithne. The music was low-key, and there wasn't much going on. Much livelier than the place I found _you _in, but it was Nar Shaddaa. I expected it to be a bit edgier. The pazaak players were a ways away in their own password-guarded den. There weren't even any dancers. The clientele was predominantly human. After asking around, I found that the real action was down in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr bar off the docks, but that was permeated with an atmosphere toxic to humans. This scene was mostly small groups of humans, interspersed with the odd friendly alien or so. They talked quietly, ate quietly, drank responsibly, and basically relaxed.

I liked the place, but after five minutes, Atton pronounced it boring. He'd expected more, too, and he kept twitching like a Twi'lek strung out on spice. When the food arrived and proved truly excellent, however, he stopped fidgeting.

"So," he said after both of us had taken the edge off of our hunger. "What did you do for fun, back before you left the Order?"

I laughed. "I was fighting a war. Not much fun in that, Atton. And before that, I was just a kid in the Enclave. Back then—it depended on where we were. On Coruscant, sometimes we'd get to visit the Senate, and afterward we'd pick apart their arguments. On Dantooine, if we could get away, we'd race speeders."

"Huh. For a boring planet, you had more fun on Dantooine," Atton observed.

"Less people," I explained. "Fewer Masters to watch us. 'Course, they'd always sense we'd snuck out, anyway, and then we'd have to listen to hours-long lectures about the 'responsibility of the Order and the symbols we carried and—'"

"I don't need the details," Atton said hurriedly, cutting me off mid-impersonation.

I grinned at him. "Neither did we."

"So who's we?"

I pushed the food around on my plate. "Who'd you think? They're all gone now, anyway. A lot of them I ordered killed. Or Revan did."

"Well," Atton said, sounding a bit awkward. "What'd you do afterwards?"

"I drifted, didn't I? Planet to backwater planet, odd job after odd job. Actually, that's kind of how I can talk to Bao-Dur now. I learned how to build weapons and fix droids. Hired on with a few ships, like he did—more as an armorer or a tech than a mechanic, though."

"Really? So it's not just something you do?"

"What do you mean?"

Atton dropped his gaze. "Well, uh, I noticed how you always have spare parts in your bag. You fiddle with them. Figured it was a nervous habit, but…"

I laughed, amazed he'd been paying that much attention. "It is," I told him. "But I developed it working during my exile, yeah. I found it helps to take my mind off…well, everything, when I fix broken things, or make new ones."

"You any good?" Atton asked.

"Nowhere near Bao-Dur's caliber, but he's basically a prodigy," I said. "I'm decent. I might even be good. Maybe. I've never gone anywhere with it where I had a chance to test myself against the competition."

"So I guess you didn't get rich, then," Atton cracked.

"Obviously," I said. "Or else I'd've had the creds on tap to buy a decent ship once we left Peragus and hire a decent pilot."

"Hey, now," Atton said, but he knew I didn't mean it. He smiled. "What did you do?"

I shrugged. "I got into trouble, but more often I didn't," I told him. It wasn't like I had any more secrets. "It reminded me too much of the war, fighting. I avoided people. Couple of people offered to take me in for a while—a lady on Telos—actually lucky I didn't take her up on it-the guy that taught me to build weapons. But people felt flat, when I couldn't feel the Force. Two-dimensional. Unreal. It put me off-balance. Anyway, I didn't want to lose anyone else. Peragus was the first time I'd spent any time with anyone else in years."

"Well that explains a lot," Atton muttered.

"It does, rather," I agreed seriously. "I'm getting used to it again now. I learned other things, though. How to play pazaak. How to drink. How to build a blaster or fix a droid from scrap. I took some time to think. Some time to be really, really mad. Some time to cry. Some time to be sorry. And right about the time I finally got around to wondering why I'd done what I'd done, the Republic showed up looking for the last of the Jedi, and two months later I woke up in my underwear on Peragus."

Atton smiled reminiscently. "Good times. Still, overall exile doesn't sound much more fun than life in the Order. Are you having fun now?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

I folded my arms. "Atton. We have to date turned three planets completely upside-down. We're on the run from half the galaxy. It seems everyone we meet wants me to save someone, teach someone, find someone, kill someone."

"Or just die," Atton put in.

"That, too. _Am I having fun_? What do you think?" I stared at him with my best pazaak face.

He wasn't fooled. He snorted, then laughed. "Force, Darden, I think you are," he accused me. "I think you're having fun turning planets upside-down and rearranging the face of the galaxy!"

I grinned. "Well, maybe a little."

"Sweetheart, there are less destructive ways to have fun," he told me. "I could show you a few. You know, if you're interested."

I was feeling brave. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, we're being watched," Atton said in the same light tone as before.

I'd expected my adrenaline to spike for a completely different reason. Atton hadn't taken his eyes from my face, but his expression had changed completely. "Don't look," he said, keeping his voice low and light, like it had been before he'd made his astonishing statement. "A couple of kids over by the bar. They've been looking over here every so often for a while now. Human male, Rutian Twi'lek female. Both well-armed and armored, and I can't identify the make of anything they're carrying."

"Bounty hunters?"

"Don't think so. Assassins, maybe. But they're military, not criminal."

I wondered how Atton could possibly tell, how closely he must've been watching for stalkers all this time. As if almost ready to leave, I pushed my plate away and looked around the entire cantina, passing my eyes over everyone and everything without stopping to look at any one person in particular. "I see them. They've noticed we've noticed them. They're coming over here."

I faced the newcomers. Human male, Rutian Twi'lek female, just like Atton had said. Both right around twenty years old.

_"And unidentified arms and armor, but probably military," Aithne repeated. Her eyes were bright, and she trembled. "I'm _not_ going to like this, am I?"_

_Darden didn't reply. She just continued. _

The Twi'lek wore a blaster on each hip. The male appeared unarmed until I saw the outline of a tubular weapon inside his jacket as it moved against him. A lightsaber. I could feel the Force moving through him, and as he stopped at our table, I looked up and thought I recognized him.

"We've met. I can't quite recall—"

"Dustil Onasi," the young man said. "I was with Jolee Bindo on the Rim two years back. I thought it was you, General."

Atton was tense, his hand near his blaster. "Relax," I told him. "He's a friend, I think."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't be here," Dustil said, keeping his voice low. "Don't you know there's a planet's worth of a bounty on your head?"

"On _any_ Jedi's head, so I believe," I pointed out.

Dustil winced. "Keep your voice down, please." He gestured to his companion. "This is Mission Vao. Mission, Darden Leona."

"Nice to meet you," said the Twi'lek girl in perfect Basic. She had a slight street accent from a planet I couldn't quite identify.

_ "Taris. It's from Taris. Lower City," Aithne choked out. Darden watched her carefully. Her face was not devoid of sympathy, but she continued on mercilessly._

She held out a slim blue hand, and I shook it.

"This is Atton Rand," I said, gesturing to the same.

Atton looked at our visitors "Your names," he said slowly. "I can't place them, but I've heard them before, haven't I?"

"Normally we'd use fake ones," Mission said, without really answering the question. "Mind if we have a seat?"

"Sure." I moved over to make room for Mission, and Atton reluctantly did the same for Dustil.

"So what's your story, then?" Atton demanded. "What do you want with us? You're a Jedi?"

"Not so much," Dustil said. "I was never formally trained by the Order."

"What happened to Jolee, though?" I asked.

Both kids smiled sadly. "Gone. Not killed. The old man was just contrary enough to wait until we knew all the other Jedi were being assassinated, then die of old age," Dustil reported.

"Jolee Bindo," Atton repeated. "And Dustil Onasi. That's it!" he said, remembering. "We talked about them on the _Harbinger_, after you looked at that log with the Admiral."

"Admiral Carth Onasi is my father," Dustil told him.

"You're Republic," Atton said, standing. "Special ops, both of you, or my name isn't Atton Rand! C'mon, Darden, let's go."

"Hold on a minute, will you?" Mission said. "We're not here professionally, okay? Sheesh. Chill out."

I remained in my seat, and Atton sat down again, looking very, very unhappy. "So the Republic's after us, too, are they?"

"You kidding?" Dustil said. "You know what you've been up to. We heard you. You can't turn entire planets upside-down without getting some attention, Atton—is it? Important ones, too. Telos, Onderon: those planets are setting the trajectory for the entire Republic these days. But the Republic's not after you guys. Just watching you. Not murderously."

"But the information has gone out," Mission admitted. "We were here looking into something else, but when we heard the _Ebon Hawk_ landed today and Dustil saw you here in the cantina…"

"But you aren't after us," I said. "So what do you want?"

"First of all to warn you off-world," Dustil told me. "You're important. Almost every bounty hunter on this moon is after you. If they haven't heard you've landed yet, they'll know in less than a week, and though they can't attack you on the moon's surface because of the truce, unless you leave tonight, you'll have a string of tails light-years long when you do leave here."

"I plan to take care of the bounty so that's not an issue."

Atton grimaced. Mission stared for a moment, eyes as wide as moons, then burst out laughing. "Take it to the crime boss of the entire sector, just like that? Hah! You're my kind of crazy, Darden. You remind me of someone I knew once," she said. Now she calmed, and grew sad. "The reports we've been getting reminded me of her, too. And now that you've landed, in the _Ebon Hawk_…that's the other thing. Can we take a look at her? The navicomputer, especially."

"The ship. You're not the first one interested," I said. "That recording on the _Harbinger_. Your father, Dustil, was very interested in the _Ebon Hawk_. And there's a Mandalorian that travels with me, too—"

"Yes, Mandalore," Mission smiled. "He would be."

"What do you know about him?" Atton asked, suddenly interested in talking again.

"Mandalore and me are old friends," Mission said. "From the Jedi Civil War. But I'm not gonna tell you what he hasn't. He's a good one, though. He won't mean _you_ any harm, Darden."

I looked from Mission to Dustil, flummoxed.

"Could we take a look at the navicomputer?" Dustil repeated. "We'd make it worth your while."

It was like looking at a jigsaw puzzle from which just three or four pieces were missing. I could almost see the entire picture, but not quite. "It's voice-locked," I told the kids. "Not my voice. None of us can get into it. Atton has to work with our T3 unit to fly it."

"T3 unit?" Mission asked.

"Yes, T3-M4. He came with the ship."

Mission hissed in a breath. "Can we—Ms. Leona, please, I'm _begging_ you. Show us to the ship."

The Twi'lek's delicately boned face was anxious, her gray eyes were wide and earnest. But Dustil, across the table, looked…angry somehow. His jaw was hard as granite.

I understood that whatever they wanted, it was incredibly important to them, personally, if not professionally. I was reminded of the Admiral's urgency in the recording on the _Harbinger_. I felt I couldn't justifiably turn them down. "Okay. Come with us."

I held up my hand to the barkeeper for the check. He came over, and I got out my purse, but Atton took the bill, scowling, and paid the credits for our supper.

It took some doing to clear out the crew when the four of us returned to the _Ebon Hawk_. Everyone wanted to know what we were supposed to do if the bounty hunters didn't take Ratrin Vhek out after all. Everyone wanted to lodge a protest or ask who the strangers were and what they were doing. Eventually I managed to convince everyone that I had Ratrin Vhek in hand, and that Dustil and Mission weren't about to start blasting me to pieces or sabotage T3-M4, though, really, I wasn't sure of either. The crew, including Atton, dispersed reluctantly to their respective hang-outs across the ship to start packing up a couple day's supplies. I took the Republic operatives to the storage room.

Mission took one look at the broken-down HK unit I'd been working on and laughed. "You ended up with him, too?"

"You know the droid?"

"Know him? This here is the most obnoxious assassin droid in the galaxy. You've been repairing him? _Why_?"

"Because he's an earlier model of some droids after me. I think he might know something," I explained.

"Where'd you find him?" Dustil asked.

"He was on board when I found the ship. Came with it, like Teethree here."

The little utility droid was standing very close to Mission Vao, chirping and beeping and whirring so fast that I could hardly keep up.

"Yeah, I missed you, too, little guy," Mission said, patting the droid's casing. "At least Aithne took you with her, though, right?"

The droid's beeping turned angry and anxious. I couldn't understand most of it. All I could get was that Teethree's former master—you, though I didn't know it at the time—had left him, too, eventually. The ship had been taken by someone else somewhere outside the known galaxy. I didn't recognize the coordinates Teethree gave Mission, though it was where we eventually started looking for you. Teethree reported that his Master had left the ship, left him, and he'd come for help because—

"Show us, Teethree," Mission said, kneeling beside the droid and doing something with his behavior core.

There was a brief static noise, and then a holo-recording appeared in the space between Dustil, Mission, and me. It was Admiral Carth Onasi, a few years younger. The holo-recording looked left, and right, as if checking to make sure no one else was around. Then he spoke in a quiet, urgent voice.

"Teethree, there's not much time—I've seen that expression on Aithne's face before. Now I don't know where she's planning on going, but it'll be dangerous. She's going to leave without telling me—I don't know why, but there's a chance she'll take you." His face twisted in momentary anguish in the recording, but he fought it, mastered himself, and continued. "If she does, I need you to watch out for her. Aithne's strong, but even she can't face everything alone. Do what you can, Teethree—"he paused. His voice shook. "If she doesn't make it back, then I need you to come back, find help. If not me, then other Jedi—the Republic?" He shook his head. More to himself than T3-M4, he said, "I can't lose her, even if she wants to be lost." Then the holo looked up, leaned forward, and the recording ended.

T3-M4 whistled lowly, sadder than I'd ever heard the normally cheerful little droid. More broken than when he'd been beat up and left for scrap in the Peragus fuel line. Mission's eyes were misty, and Dustil's jaw was tight.

"There has to be more," he said. "Coordinates, information? Where was she when you last saw her? What was she doing? Teethree?"

The droid beeped a negative, and rattled off the same ass-end-of-nowhere coordinates.

I looked at Dustil and Mission, and everything fell into place for me. "It's Revan, isn't it? That's what this is all about. This was her ship, the ship she ended the Jedi Civil War in. And the ship she vanished in."

"Yeah," said an unexpected voice. Mandalore had walked up sometime during the recording, and he stood in the doorway. "This was her ship. She leaves after the war, she doesn't tell any of us where she's going. Then the best lead I've found in years just falls into my lap on Dxun. But it turns out to be nothing." His fists clenched so hard I heard his armor squeal in protest.

"You fought with her, didn't you? In the Civil War. Jolee told me of a Mandalorian, years ago. She gave you that mask."

Mandalore raised his hands and unfastened the clasps at his neck. He lifted the helm and mask of Mandalore from his head, and for the first time, I saw his face. Tired blue-green eyes looked out at me from the scarred and weathered visage of a beaten down man of sixty, at least. The corner of his lip was turned up in miserable self-contempt. His gray-white hair and beard were cut short.

"Yeah, she gave it to me. Told me to reunite the clans. Said the galaxy needed the Mandalorians strong again." He turned to the Republic operatives. "Hey, kid," he said to Mission. "Been a long time. Dustil."

"Hey, Canderous," Mission said.

"Canderous. Is that your name?"

"Yeah. Canderous Ordo."

He sounded so weary, so defeated. I looked from Mandalore—from Canderous Ordo—to Mission Vao, to T3-M4. "You all fought with her," I said. "And Dustil?"

"I'm from Telos," the young man said heavily. "The Sith destroyed my homeworld and killed my mother. I was captured, and my father didn't make it in time. They took me to Korriban. Kept me, trained me. They had me persuaded they were right and I was about to go to war for them when Revan helped my father to find me. And Revan—well, she was more persuasive. She and my father, they risked everything to get me off Korriban, show me what I was doing was wrong and evil and that the Sith wanted to use me, not help me. After the war, she convinced Jolee to teach me how to control my emotions, how to use the training the Sith had given me for good, not evil. I reconnected with my father, too, because of her."

"Aithne found me on Taris," Mission relayed in her turn. "I was just a kid. I didn't have anyone, just my best friend Zaalbar, and he was an exiled Wookiee. She saved him from slavery, and he swore a life debt to her, but she took us both on. If she hadn't, both of us would have died when Malak destroyed the planet. She's the closest thing to a mom I have, or a sister. I have to find her, Darden. We have to find her."

Canderous only nodded, but Dustil's eyes blazed. "Revan left us, Mission! She left _all_ of us! You saw the recording! You saw _Father_, after she left. I thought this was a bad idea."

"She hated being called Revan," Mission retorted.

"Why do you call her Aithne?"

Canderous answered me. "When the Jedi sent Bastila to capture Revan near the end of the war, Malak fired on her ship. Destroy two enemies at once, he thought. Like killing Revan would be that easy. He did do a number on her brain, though. The Jedi were able to save her life, but barely. And when they healed her mind, they built her a false identity. Aithne Morrigan. She didn't realize who she was until months after she met us and was well on her way to destroying Malak. None of us knew, except that broken-down assassin droid there, Bastila, Jolee, and the damn Jedi Council."

"The droid knew?" I asked, looking over at the HK droid.

"Yeah. It's her droid," Mission said. "She built it. Hence the obnoxious personality." She smiled fondly, but she was awash in a sea of sadness that almost drowned me, even just standing by.

"And all this has just—fallen to me. This isn't a coincidence," I said. "It can't be. I don't see the Force in everything like Kreia, but it's kind of bludgeoning me over the head now, isn't it?" I folded my arms and swallowed. "She could be dead, you know."

"You never traveled with her," Mission said fiercely.

I raised an eyebrow at her. Canderous spoke up for me, though. "Keep in mind who you're talking to, kid." He addressed me again. "You knew her as well as we did. You've seen her in action. You _know_ she's not dead."

"I knew Revan," I corrected him. "I knew the Jedi Knight of the Mandalorian Wars. She was my commander. She was the woman that demolished your people, then, Mandalore, and I was one of many people she used and many weapons she fashioned to do it. I watched her dominate, I watched her harden, and at the end of the Wars I watched her start to fall to the Dark Side. I knew her, yes. She advanced me, made me a Jedi Knight. Trained me, fought with me. She saved my life from Malak when I refused to join them, in the end. She may have even been my friend. I never could figure it out. But, you must understand, I _never_ knew your Aithne Morrigan." But my palms sweat, and my heart raced. Even as I said the words I hoped they were a lie. Hoped you had been my friend, and the woman Mission and Canderous had so obviously loved at the bottom of the ranks had been the one I knew at the top, even a little.

"So much the better," Dustil said bitterly. "Aithne Morrigan walks in the light, but she can't help destroying everything she touches, anyway. She saves you, makes you love her, says she loves you, and then she leaves. And here we all are. Lost and alone. Are we better, the four of us, for having been saved by Revan, for having loved her and been loved by her? Is my father better?"

Canderous was silent, but Mission laid a hand on her friend's arm. "I think we are," she said. "I think you are. And I'm sure Carth wouldn't wish for even a second that he hadn't known Aithne."

I looked around at the three. I remembered Admiral Carth Onasi's desperate face as he pled with a droid. "She _must_ have loved you," I murmured. "She had to have. It must have been like cutting out her heart with a pen-knife, to leave you all behind. To leave him. I wonder why she did it."

Teethree whirred sadly, and I clenched my fists. "Right. Right. Force knows I have enough to do, but this came to _me_. The _Ebon Hawk_ is mine now, along with its locked navicomputer and these two droids. If we can take down Goto, find Zez-Kai Ell. If we can stop the Sith, somehow…maybe…" I swallowed. Nodded. "You're with me?" I asked Canderous and T3-M4.

The utility droid beeped determinedly, and Mandalore put on his helm once more. "I will obey her instructions to me," he told me. "I will rally the Mandalorians. I will build her army. But if we find any trace of her, any lead—I have to know."

"And you? Mission? Dustil? Are you with me? We could use all the help we can get," I told them.

Dustil and Mission looked at one another, and seemed to come to a mutual agreement. "We've got another job here," Dustil said. "There's something weird going on with the droids in this sector of space; we've traced it to Nar Shaddaa. There's this signal…never mind about that, though."

"No, I know what you're talking about," I told him. "They were using a droid with a weird module on its arm to rig the swoop races here, but more worryingly, there were two more that tried to kill me today when I started looking into a moon-wide signal for a Bith in the flophouse. They did kill the Bith and his Twi'lek friend. Hmm."

"Did you find anything out?" Dustil asked me.

"No." I rummaged in my pack and brought out a datapad. "Here, though. The Bith had this on him when he died. Sorry I can't be of more help. With that or with the ship."

"We got enough to worry about, Leona," Mandalore said. "Well. Mission? Dustil? Glad you're still alive."

"You, too, Canderous," Mission said. She actually hugged the armored Mandalorian. I blinked when Mandalore not only let her, but actually hugged her back. It was like suddenly finding a rancor monster being gentle with a puppy. Well, okay, no, but it was weird, all the same. Dustil shook Mandalore's hand in his turn, and then he pulled out a couple hundred credits from his wallet and turned to me.

"We did say we'd make it worth your while," he began.

"Don't worry about it, Dustil," I told him. "I'm afraid I didn't give you any useful information. You told me more than I could tell you. Sorry about that. I—when…if I find out anything more…about Revan, or the droids—will I be able to contact you? Should I?"

Dustil thought about it. He looked from Mission to Canderous, then back at the empty space where Teethree had played the holo of his father. I sensed his anger, like a smoking volcano, but he nodded, nonetheless.

Mission relaxed. She walked out of the storage room into the main hold and over to the console. She typed something in. "I'm saving the ID code of our fighter, _Hawk's Honor_, in your communications console. If you find anything, send us a transmission, okay? We probably won't be able to meet with you again, General, but we—I—will appreciate anything you and Canderous find."

She walked back over and shook my hand, and I shook Dustil's after.

Bao-Dur walked out of the garage, and the Handmaiden peeped from the cargo hold.

It had been rather a bust for Dustil and Mission, but Dustil still managed a polite goodbye. "We'll see ourselves out. May the Force be with you."

"And you as well."

The boarding ramp lowered, and raised again. Bao-Dur walked out into the hold. "Well?" he asked Mandalore.

"Old friends of mine," Canderous told him. "We used to travel on this ship. They wanted to talk about old times."

The Handmaiden, Atton, and Visas came to join all of us in the main hold. "What's he talking about, Darden?" Atton asked. "What did the Republics want?"

"They were hoping I could lead them to Revan," I said, looking determinedly at the floor. "Apparently, she ended the Jedi Civil War in our little _Ebon Hawk_, then flew off into the Unknown Regions on it, leaving her friends behind. Teethree and Canderous here were two of her friends, along with that broken HK unit in the storage room. Admiral Carth Onasi, his son Dustil, and Mission Vao were some others. Wherever Revan went, this ship's been there."

"No way," Atton said. "And the voiceprint on the navicomputer?"

"I daresay," I agreed.

"Wow. Revan's old ship," Atton muttered.

"That's some legacy, General," Bao-Dur said. "It feels like more than a coincidence. Perhaps the Force…maybe we're supposed to do something with this."

"We will be able to do nothing if this Ratrin Vhek takes the ship tomorrow like he plans," the Handmaiden said practically.

"If he even gets here. Look, we'll head to the flophouse tomorrow morning with our stuff. A couple rooms are vacant now and the landlord owes me a few favors. We'll set a guard on the ship, though, make sure Vhek doesn't fly off with her just yet, at least. Visas, Canderous? You up for the job?"

"I am ready to serve," Visas confirmed, and Canderous gave his assent, too.

"Good. That's settled then. Now everybody back off, okay? I need to think. Maybe even sleep."

* * *

_ Darden had expected this portion of the story to wreck her friend in some way or another, and she wasn't surprised. Darden was relieved that it hadn't made Aithne violent, but seeing Aithne curled up in the corner, clutching her pillow to her chest, trembling, with silent tears streaming down her cheeks was almost as distressing. Darden didn't know what to say to the other woman. She was a general, a commander. Inspiring, not nurturing. She didn't do comfort. _

_ "The voiceprint for the navicomputer is EH-10," Aithne said in a voice made thick with weeping._

_ Darden seized onto the comment, and replied, keeping her voice as calm as possible. "I didn't know that," she said. "Teethree took it off without me after we took care of the Sith. Apparently he had a recording all along, but obviously he didn't want your ship to be of any use to the pirates, or to your enemies if it fell into the wrong hands later. EH-10. For your crew?"_

_ "Yes. Me, Carth, Mission, Zaalbar, Bastila, Teethree, Canderous, Juhani, Jolee, and Aytchkay. My teachers, my friends, my family all on one ship. The only nine beings in the galaxy that were with me the whole way and got it. I mean—Dustil—but things were always rocky with him, because of…"she trailed off. _

_ "I did love them. I _do_. But I didn't know, I couldn't remember—it was these Sith, these psycho abominations spawned by the Mandalorian Wars, but not _my_ Sith. I knew about them, I think. Especially your 'Kreia.' But I couldn't remember, so I didn't know where to go, and anyway—I wasn't any good for them, Darden. I mean, amnesiac mass-murdering, double-traitor ex-Sith Lord? The galaxy would never forgive me, not really, and I couldn't even start making things right when I had no idea where I'd started to mess things up. I've done some research since, but I've only started touching on what I got into, and—they didn't deserve to have that hanging over them. None of them."_

_ The guilt Aithne had carried for years poured out of her. Though Darden was no nurturer, no comforter, she instinctively knew at least that the best thing she could do was sit still, and listen. _

_ "They were supposed to forget me," Aithne whispered. "They were supposed to move on with their lives and forget me. Be healthy, be happy, and enjoy their heroism without being linked to the villain that made it necessary. I thought they'd realize it was all for the best. I didn't want them to stay hurt—I left so they wouldn't hurt all their lives. I tried to give them what they wanted. Zaalbar went back to Kashyyyk, Jolee went with Dustil, Juhani and Bastila would have the Order, Canderous could rebuild the Mandalorians, and Carth and Mission would have each other and the Republic."_

_ Darden took a breath. Carefully, she said, "The suffering you choose is always better than that which is imposed upon you, especially if it's undertaken for love—be that love for country, ideal, or individual. But Aithne, it's not too late. It's never too late."_

_ "What could I possibly say to them?" Aithne asked, her pale face writ in lines of anguish._

_ "They're your friends. Your family. Your children, your—"Darden lost her courage._

_ Aithne smiled wetly. "It is good to know that Dustil and Mission finally accepted one another," she said. "Dustil thought that Carth and I had replaced him and his mother both at first. But I always thought that they'd get along really well if he'd just give her a chance. And I was ready to love Dustil, too. I do love him, too. He's a smart kid. A good kid. Like his father." Her voice faded. _

_ "They're your family," Darden repeated. "And they love you, too. Even Dustil—he's so angry because he does love you, not because he doesn't."_

_ "But what can I _say_?" Aithne pressed again. She searched Darden's face, looking for honest answers there._

_ Darden squirmed, uncomfortable. "I don't know," she admitted. "It's been years since I had friends, and I never had a family unt…" she broke off and started again. "There's no easy answer here, Aithne. I think you should go back to them all, but I'm not going to pretend it's the easy thing to do. In the end, it'll be up to you. I guess…I guess you could always start with, 'I love you. I'm sorry.'"_

_ "I do," Aithne whispered. "I am. Every day." She shook her head, trying to restore emotional equilibrium, embarrassed by her display. "Please, keep going. I'm sorry."_

_ Darden shrugged. "Don't be. I'm well aware I'm provoking you, and I admit I'm doing so intentionally."_

_ "That was the reason why you insisted on telling the whole story, yes. I'm starting to get it, now," Aithne said wryly. "I should probably punch you, but I have the feeling I might actually thank you for it. So. What happened the next day, when Ratrin Vhek came?" _

_ "That…was an interesting day," Darden said. "That morning we'd been in the Refugee living quarters kicking up a fuss with the Exchange and Serroco veterans that bullied the refugees there—Atton, the Handmaiden, and I, that is…_

* * *

**Coming 6/16: Atton arrives just as Darden begins telling how she finally learned of his past.**

**And 6/19: Atton helps Darden explain to Aithne how when they finally got the attention of Goto and the Exchange, the involvement of an unaffiliated bounty hunter threw all their plans out of whack and got Darden captured. Aithne perversely enjoys the tale of the bounty hunter's spanner in the works and Darden's damsel-in-distressing. **


	20. XVIII

**Disclaimer: I think I've been running out of clever ways to write these things for weeks.**

* * *

XVIII.

Assassin

"_It'd been a busy morning in the Refugee living quarters. We'd talked the Serroco out of bullying the Refugees, but we'd slaughtered the local Exchange. Mainly, of course, the purpose was to get the attention of the Exchange higher-ups as an in to Goto, but knowing that it'd improve the lives of the refugees was a huge bonus. I didn't like the look of the hollow-cheeked, glaze-eyed people there. _

I trust you've been places like that, where it looks like the people are just waiting around to die, like livestock, vacant and desperate. I could count ribs beneath the refugees' threadbare clothing, which was falling off the grown ones, and far too tight on the growing children that had worn it years too many.

I'd treated a couple of sick ones with the Force and medical supplies the Handmaiden had had in her pack. I'd freed one little girl from slavery. But the relief stuff was treating symptoms. The violence that morning had dealt with the cause, temporarily, at least. But I'd still felt we had to leave the living quarters before we ate.

So Atton, the Handmaiden, and I were resting against the railing that surrounded the pit in the Sector Square, the remnants of our lunch on our packs on the ground. Eventually, of course, we had to head back to the flophouse to see if the woman we'd been trying to get back to her husband had made it, to fix a pilot up with a captainless crew, and to see if an Ithorian Atton and I had helped the day before with docking difficulties could get a family off-world now the difficulties had been cleared up. But I figured all that could wait just a bit. I was tired.

The fighting had been intense with the Exchange in the living quarters. Not that my companions hadn't handled themselves well. The Handmaiden had been an enormous help, and Atton hadn't really even complained. A lot of what we'd done that morning had been to help the refugees as much as to get in trouble with the Exchange. Atton wasn't a fan of trouble with the Exchange, but he seemed sympathetic with the refugees. I actually sort of thought he might have been one himself at one point. He was so familiar with the sector.

I drank from my canteen and sat in companionable silence with the others. Passersby gave Atton and the Handmaiden's blood-flecked garments weird looks, but the three of us ignored them. Through the Force, I could feel the two of them were as tired as I was, and I could sense their trust and affection for me. I was careful, however, not to listen to them _too_ carefully. I didn't want to invade their privacy, and I thought Atton, at least, might know if I did, and be sure to be thinking something I didn't want to hear.

The Handmaiden's Force Sensitivity was evident in the way she fought, in the way she thought about fighting, in the way she predicted the flow of a firefight and was always so in tune with me that she was precisely where she needed to be. Honestly, purely martially, given a few years more real-world experience, she might even give you a challenge, Aithne. I'd spotted her Force Sensitivity almost immediately, in our very first conversation on Telos.

It had taken me longer to tell with Atton. But I was starting to suspect he was Sensitive, too. He was just too good at keeping Jedi out of his head. In the two weeks since he'd taught me to 'play pazaak,' we'd practiced more than once. He was incredible at it, and more than that, he could always tell when I was testing his 'door,' and inevitably switched to a lurid fantasy to kick me back out. Of course, sensing Jedi in his head could have merely been training and long practice, but in our mental games, I'd noticed that Atton could at least approach _my _head, too. He tried to hide it, but a couple of times, he'd told me to focus more, to guard my 'door'—he'd been able to sense it breaking down. The ability was undeniably indicative of psychic capability with the Force. But while I was fairly certain that one day I'd be able to train the Handmaiden like Bao-Dur, I didn't think I'd be able to train Atton. The Echani girl wanted the Force. Atton didn't.

I leaned against the railing, stretching out beyond my companions with the Force. It was strong. Very strong. In that place I could feel life pulsing, echoing down through the moon. It raced and beat through my veins like drums.

Kreia sensed my disturbance, and her consciousness touched my mind. **I can feel your thoughts from a great distance, like a shiver running through you.**

I sent her an image of my location, pushed through my feelings. **Something lives here. It's strange…**

** It is Nar Shaddaa. The true Nar Shaddaa, that you feel around you. It is this moon, with the metal and machines stripped away and the currents of the Force laid bare,** Kreia told me.

Nar Shaddaa. The words hissed in my mind with a beauty I had not heard in them before. I focused with the Force. The currents of it were enormous, and threatened to bear me away. It hurt. The moon was not a happy place. It was desperate, angry. **It's so alive. But with a desperation about it, too.**

Beside me, the Handmaiden and Atton shifted, splashed by the wave that threatened to drown me. The Handmaiden peered down into the pit behind us, stories and sectors down into Nar Shaddaa.

**I am surprised you can feel it, **Kreia said in my head. **I feared the damage to you had deadened you to such perceptions. What you feel is the echo of the minds of these creatures through the Force. Their anger, their greed, their desperation. It is life.**

It was a scream, a cry for help that reverberated in my mind and spirit. It was like the first time I had felt the Force again on Peragus, painful, only this time, the sensation was so much stronger. I shuddered. **Can I do anything? Heal it, somehow?**

There was a wave of amusement from Kreia. **One might as well heal the universe…but such manipulation is possible, yes. It requires that one be able to feel the critical point within the fractured mass…and know how to strike it in such a way that the echoes travel to your intended destination.**

At last, the pain started to ebb away, and I was able to breathe again. Somehow, though, I was sad that the sensation was going. **How long can I feel this? To feel the moon—it's huge.**

** Like life, such waking moments in the Force are rare, **Kreia explained. **Waiting for the right moment when the critical point is struck, and the sound rises…but let us be silent. Words and thoughts are distractions. Feel this moment, for as long as it will last. Feel life, as it is, with the crude matter stripped away.**

I closed my eyes and listened to the heartbeat of Nar Shaddaa, even as the sound slipped away from me. I felt the lifeblood of the world pulse around me, and was grateful. And when it was over, I led the others on to the flophouse.

Later that afternoon, we were back in the refugee living quarters. We'd been successful in procuring employment for the pilot and transport for the family, and we had to notify them.

The woman who'd be leaving with the Ithorian was packing. One of her little boys tripped over his feet in his excitement. Around the area, refugees moved their things to new positions, taking up the space that our negotiations with the Serroco refugees and our fight with the Exchange thugs had procured them. They were trading things more freely, inspired by the kindness they had received to be kind to their neighbors.

The Handmaiden watched the family that'd be vacating Nar Shaddaa for good with me. I could sense her satisfaction. "The Exchange will be sorely provoked at what we have done here this day," she remarked. "But this moment, here, is the most beautiful to see. I am proud to stand beside you today, Darden Leona."

"Only you could've done what you did with the Serocco and Exchange thugs today," I told her quietly, too low for Atton, playing Republic Senate pazaak with a fifteen year old kid a ways away, to hear. "Mandalore might have been able to fight like you did once, but he's too old now. You're the best fighter on the _Ebon Hawk_."

"It is easy to fight well when one believes in the cause one is fighting for. You have done much kindness here," the girl replied.

/She has,/ said a voice from behind us. I turned to see two Twi'lek males. /Girl, if we might speak with your leader privately, we have something to tell her./

The Handmaiden looked at me, uncertain, but I perceived no threat from the Twi'leks. I nodded, and the girl went to go help Kahranna with her children. "Well?" I asked the Twi'leks.

/We feel we must repay you for what you have done here,/ the orange one said. /So we have a warning for you. That one—your human companion, the male./ he looked meaningfully at Atton.

"Yeah, what about him?"

/We have seen him before,/ said the other Twi'lek.

"Yeah, I think Atton has been here before. So what?"

The orange Twi'lek's lekku twitched. /Atton was the name we knew him by, but that is not his name. He came to the smuggler's moon years into the Jedi Civil War. He claimed he had been displaced by the war./

/Do not trust him,/ said the other, firmly. /He is not a soldier—he is a killer, tried and true. We can give you nothing more than that warning. The rest is up to you./

Both Twi'leks bowed, and turned. "Wait!" I called. "What do you…"

"Leona!" called a sharp voice. Mandalore and Bao-Dur had jogged up, and while they did, the Twi'leks left. "We've got trouble," Canderous said.

I dismissed thoughts of Atton's past, and Atton and the Handmaiden came up to join us.

"What's happened?" Atton asked.

"The Red Eclipse was scheduled to land on the landing pad you said was unclaimed, that's what," Bao-Dur said, naming a high-profile and powerful slaving organization. Anger practically rolled off of him, so much so that I looked at him.

"Bao-Dur." I said. Bao-Dur met my gaze, and started a relaxing routine I'd taught him, unclenching all his muscles and breathing deeply. "What's going on?" I asked Mandalore.

"They landed someplace else, but they're angry we took the pad," Mandalore reported. "They've taken a fancy to the _Ebon Hawk_ and have decided to seize her for compensation." He swore colorfully in Mando'a. "There's over a dozen of them. We saw them get Vhek when he tried to board the ship."

I thought rapidly, calculating our odds. "Well. That wasn't part of the plan," I said lightly. Then I brought up my com-link. "Visas? Come in, Visas."

"Darden," Visas' voice crackled over the comm. "What has happened?"

"Slavers have the _Ebon Hawk_. We're taking it back. Get Kreia and T3-M4 and meet the rest of us by that shop off the pad."

"It shall be done," Visas promised. The com-link went dead. "Come on," I told the others.

* * *

_ Outside in the darkened, ill-paved streets of the patchwork settlement, Atton Rand made his way toward Aithne Morrigan's temporary dwelling, following the signal Darden was beaming him over the com-link. Nocturnal aliens, conspiring criminals, and refugees from hunters so bad they were still scared to sleep watched the man from cracked shutters and dirty windows. Atton avoided the glittering stares and kept a hand near his weapon._

_ The door he was looking for looked just like the dozens of others he'd passed: thin and shabby with peeling paint probably made with compounds that'd been outlawed in the Core decades ago, bought by whatever unscrupulous landlord owned the building and didn't care what sickness his tenants came down with so long as the apartments were cheap to build and maintain. Next door, Atton could smell someone smoking spice. Down the street, a drunk was passed out in a pool of his own phosphorescent sick. The settlement on this rock was small, but as sad as they came. Atton knocked. _

_ Inside Aithne's temporary apartment, Darden's narrative was interrupted. Aithne looked at Darden, then stood. She extended her hand, and one of her dual lightsabers flew into it. It hit her palm with a soft smack, and she closed her fingers around the hilt. _

_ On the step, Atton blinked as the flickering porch light came on. Then the door opened. _

_ A year they'd been looking for her, but Atton still hadn't decided what to expect. Republic and Darden had their own versions of her, and Atton had his. The woman at the door didn't fit it._

_ The Jedi legend in her self-imposed exile, the Sith Lord at home, minus mask and the big scary black robe of doom, was almost disappointing to Atton in how normal she looked. Dressed for lounging around, barefoot, barefaced, bareheaded, with long, wild curls partially obscuring her face, she looked almost too girlish for the intimidating, faceless presence he remembered. A two-time war hero, the most dangerous villain in living memory. But Atton Rand could sense Revan's power just as he had sensed it years before, only now, he knew it for what it was, and he wondered more than ever how the hell he'd gotten away with what he'd done. _

_ "Hi, boss," Atton said._

_ Aithne Morrigan stepped aside. Atton came in. Aithne closed and locked the door behind him. Aithne looked him over in the light of the apartment, and he gave her stare for stare. He was dressed comfortably and casually, but Aithne wasn't too surprised to see that he had a double-bladed lightsaber attached to his belt, worked in functional gray and silver. She wondered if he knew how to use it, if he'd known before last year. He was tall and broad-shouldered as Darden had said, but otherwise lean and long-limbed, rangy. He was attractive enough, Aithne supposed, but due more to an interesting appearance than a particularly regular or symmetrical one. His cheek and jawbones were too sharp, his sardonic mouth was too wide, and his nose looked like it might have been broken once. He had nice hair, she thought, but his eyes reminded her of the Hrakert Rift on Manaan. Or maybe she was predisposed to be wary of the guy. _

"_Atton Rand," Aithne said. "Darden's been telling me the entire story from day one. From what I've heard so far, I thought you must be one of mine."_

_ "Not anymore," Atton said. He kept his gaze fixed on Aithne. "You gonna gut me for desertion?"_

_ "Not for desertion," Aithne replied. She could sense some power in Atton, but though he was somewhat more present than Darden, he was somehow less there, too. She couldn't get at him at all. It was like looking at a wall, and it was unnerving. All his defenses were up. Aithne turned her lightsaber over in her hand. _

_ Darden stood. "Aithne," she said. Aithne blinked. Atton looked over at Darden, and the tension lessened dramatically. Aithne saw the man physically relax. His cold eyes warmed, his shoulders loosened, his mouth turned up. Darden went to him, and wrapped an arm around his waist briefly. Aithne watched, unsure from what she'd heard so far if it was the gesture of a good friend or a non-demonstrative lover. It could be either, or both. They'd even had time to start and end a fling and reestablish good terms in the time that had passed since the events Darden had related so far. _

_ "Sorry again I forgot to call," Darden was saying._

_ "Nah, what's an hour long hike through the dark at the ass-end of nowhere?" Atton shrugged. He looked over at Aithne again, more casually. "Ever since we found out how you lost the _Hawk_—and had our own run-in with would-be pirates five months back, Darden's been paranoid about parking the ship at least three kilos out from settlements," he explained. "We even rent and operate the fuel trucks ourselves. Eh, it's probably a good move, but obnoxious as hell in the middle of the night."_

_ "Sorry," Aithne said. "Thanks for coming anyway. From what Darden's told me so far, I wanted to meet you, before I decided whether or not I'm coming tomorrow like she wants. I need the ride, but it sounds like there'll be strings attached."_

_ "Only the ones you let hold you," Darden said quietly. "But I think it's better to be connected to things than alone in the galaxy."_

_ Aithne glanced at Darden, but remained focused on Atton. She was sure of Darden. He remained the unknown, and possibly untrustworthy factor. "You were one of mine. What did you do for me, during the war?"_

_ "Right, you haven't been firing on all thrusters since Malak and the Jedi Council made a playpen of your skull," Atton said._

_ Reluctantly, Aithne smiled. "I guess that's one way of putting it," she said._

_ "Hey, least you have actual dummy memories to back up your other identity. Me? I make my own delusions. Who's crazier?" Atton asked. He looked at Darden. "Where were you in that 'entire story?' Force, that's gonna take a while."_

_ "I was just telling her about the time the Red Eclipse took the ship," Darden told him._

_ Atton looked back at Aithne. "If we're there, she's about to get to the whole history bit. No need to do it twice."_

_ Darden was frowning at Aithne. "It's your business, Atton," she said. "So far, I've only told her what I observed about you, what I heard about you. About _me_ and why I made the decisions I did. I haven't told her anything you've told me." Aithne felt a gentle pressure in her head, another reminder that she could think what she liked, but whatever Aithne thought, Atton was under Darden's protection._

_ Atton didn't appear to want Darden's protection, however, at least as regarded secrecy. "It's her business, too," he pointed out. He looked Aithne up and down. _

_ Darden had described Atton's thorough, piercing gaze, at odds with his wisecracking façade. Now Aithne felt it turned upon her, felt Atton evaluating the situation. He seemed to tally up all her strengths and weaknesses in a moment, but Aithne couldn't get a read on what he decided. Like Darden before him, though, and despite all they knew about her, Aithne got the sense that Atton was completely unafraid of her. It was impressive. _

_ "Hey, it's no big deal," Atton added to Darden. "Just history, right?"_

_ "Yours or mine?" Aithne challenged him._

_ "Exactly."_

_ Aithne regarded Atton a moment longer. Despite the edge she'd heard tell of and already felt to Atton, she was somewhat inclined to like him, against her expectations. Furthermore, it wasn't even the Dark Side in her that liked him, like it had been with HK-47, and with Canderous, at first. _

_ Darden watched Aithne. Her too-mobile face showed her thoughts clearly. Darden could almost feel her brain working, sizing Atton up, deciding whether or not he was actually a threat. "Come and sit down," Aithne invited him. _

_ Atton looked over the room, taking note of the single chair. Also like Darden, instead of taking it and differentiating himself from the group, he sat next to the cot, across from where Darden had sat previously. Darden took her position again, and Aithne sat beside her. _

"_So, how's this thing working, anyway?" Atton asked the two women. "You just sitting around telling stories all night?"_

_ "Pretty much," Darden said. "Actually we were hoping you would help some of the time. And this next bit's all about you. So if you want to—"_

_ "Tell what happened?" Atton asked. He considered it, then said, "Nah. I'd like to hear why you did what you did that day. I'll help out later—you couldn't tell some of the stuff that went on later on Nar Shaddaa."_

_ "Then it's a good thing you're here," Darden said. "Okay, Aithne…_

* * *

So we all went back to take the ship from the Red Eclipse. Ratrin Vhek left the _Ebon Hawk_ in a hurry the very instant I let him out of the cuffs Caahmakt the Red Eclipse captain had put on him, gifting it to me with no hard feelings and muttering something about the _Ebon Hawk _being cursed. It wasn't exactly how I'd planned on things working out, but I liked it just fine. Better, even, because the people that had wound up dead were slavers, and the galaxy was well rid of them.

We spent all the rest of that day dragging bodies out of the ship and to the back ship of a cheap hospital Atton claimed would either burn the corpses or utilize them to heal others with the credits to pay for semi-fresh organs. We spent the evening moving supplies back into the _Ebon Hawk_ and giving all the decks a thorough scrubbing. After a very late meal, almost everyone turned in immediately.

I didn't, though. I went to the med bay. I could sense the violence that had happened on the _Ebon Hawk_ today, like a ripple of Darkness in the Force aboard the ship. But there was another presence in the med bay, one of the 'echoes' I'd heard that time I'd listened with Kreia of the people that had lived here before us. I thought one of the Jedi that had traveled with Revan must have slept in the med bay once. Not Revan herself—the echo was too calm for that—but one of the others. At any rate, it was a good place to think.

The entire crew was relieved to have the _Ebon Hawk_ back, even though we hadn't got the couple weeks of safety we'd wanted. I was relieved myself. In fact, I was pretty sure that if I'd known before meeting Ratrin Vhek that the ship had been Revan's, I wouldn't have gambled it like I had to get a few weeks' rest.

But the narrowly averted crisis wasn't primarily what troubled me. The fight was over and Vhek was gone. No, I couldn't stop thinking about earlier in the day, when the two mysterious Twi'leks had warned me about the man that called himself Atton Rand. I had sensed they spoke the truth, and anyway, what they'd told me made sense.

Logically, of course, I knew it didn't matter. Whatever Atton had been, he'd stopped. The past was in the past, and I'd promised Atton not to ask about his. But it bothered me, nonetheless. I'd suspected before that Atton might have been some kind of assassin. To have it confirmed, though, was upsetting. Of course, I knew I had no ground to stand on to judge him, but the feelings remained. I sat in the med bay that night trying to sort them out.

I didn't get to, though. There were footsteps in the corridor outside, and I recognized them as belonging to the very subject of my musings. Atton looked in, took in my expression at a glance, and stopped. "What's eating you, then?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "We have the _Ebon Hawk_ back, we kicked up a hell of a fuss this morning. The Exchange is bound to notice us soon. What's wrong?"

I kicked my swinging legs against the frame of the medical cot. "Nothing," I started to say. But he wasn't buying it, so I forced a smile. "You're always complaining about my past catching up with us. It's just, today, your past caught up with us." I shrugged, as if it were unimportant, hoping it was unimportant.

When Atton tensed, though, I knew it was important. He laughed nervously. "What happened? D'you run into somebody in the thirty seconds I wasn't with you today that said I owed 'em credits or something?"

"No."

He laughed again, now looking more nervous than ever. "It wasn't some wom—"

"No," I interrupted. I dared to look at him then. "Atton—is there anything you want to tell me? Who you were? Why you showed up here in the middle of the Jedi Civil War? Your real name, maybe?"

Atton's face became a blank, and he stood up straight. Slowly, quietly, he asked me, "Who have you been talking to?"

I waved a hand impatiently. "I ran into a couple Twi'leks in the Refugee Sector this morning." I decided I didn't want to poke it, slid off the cot, started to go. "Look, never mind, it doesn't matter."

Atton interrupted my flight. "Obviously it does. I did show up on Nar Shaddaa during the Jedi Civil War, okay? Along with a lot of other refugees. Why _does_ it matter to you? Tell me that."

Pushed into the confrontation, I faced him squarely. "Because what those Twi'leks told me made a lot of sense considering what I've seen. Your actions and attitudes contradict themselves all the time, Atton, and I can't make sense of it. I don't know whether you want to be here, want to help me, or if you want to put a blaster to my head, sometimes. And it bothers me, okay? What's your problem?"

It hadn't been the best idea to let my worries run away with my mouth. Atton was on the defensive, now.

"You know what? I helped you get off Peragus. If I hadn't been there, you wouldn't have even gotten off the administration level. I'm trying to help you. I don't know why I'm bothering."

"Neither do I!" I cried, with weeks of pent-up confusion. "It seems to go against every instinct you have. Why are you trying to protect me?!"

"I don't know," Atton muttered, dropping his gaze. "I'm not sure I understand it half the time."

"No," I said, committed now. "That's not good enough. I want to know where you've been and what you've done, because I think it can explain why you sometimes look like you'd like nothing better than to take me down, and sometimes…well…"

Atton exploded. "You want to talk past? Let's talk yours, sweetheart! I haven't pressed you about the Wars! Not once! Oh, I know why you were about ready to explode on Dxun. You think I haven't heard about that? Everyone has. I heard about Serroco, and I sure as hell know about Malachor V. What makes you think you've got the right to interrogate me on anything? You've got plenty of lives to answer for—all you Jedi do."

I hated how much taller he is than me right then, let me tell you. "I haven't hidden anything from you. I hated what happened in the war, on both sides. I hate what I did, what I had to do. You know that, Atton!"

"How did you even live with yourself after Malachor?" he demanded. "Is that why you went back to the Jedi Council? Hoping they'd kill you? But Jedi don't kill, do they? At least not their prisoners. Maybe you were counting on it when you went back in chains."

From time to time, I had seen a cynical, hateful sneer flicker across Atton's face. It was there in all its glory now, and I stared, amazed at the depth of his hatred. "The Jedi didn't chain me—"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you got off easy—you were exiled, brushed under the cargo ramp, another dirty little Jedi secret."

His eyes narrowed. I could feel waves of anger, fear, and guilt emanating from him, but at the very moment I was most conscious of his Force Sensitivity, I realized how very bad that might be for me.

"I'll tell you," he said in a quiet, dangerous voice, the voice of the predator. "All those Jedi at Malachor? They deserved it. Every last one of them."

It was as if he'd stabbed me. I staggered back, eyes stinging. "What? They didn't! What are you even talking about?"

A strange, sick smile played around the corners of Atton's mouth, like he was pleased he was hurting me. "Jedi lie," he spat. "They manipulate. And every act of charity or kindness they do, you can drag it out squirming into the light and see it for what it is. The galaxy doesn't need Jedi arrogance or Jedi hypocrisy anymore."

It was the Atton that didn't make sense, the ruthless, casually cruel, hate-filled man that sometimes appeared to confound me beneath the surface of the wisecracking pilot. But even as he vented all his rage and ugliness, it sounded like the dying throes of some beast long starved, like an infernal dogma he no longer believed in. "Where are you getting all this? Where does this come from?"

Atton started to pace the corridor, and I looked nervously down the hall toward the cargo hold. I hoped the Handmaiden was a sound sleeper. If she emerged from the cargo hold, she would see an angry, threatening man in a heated disagreement with me, and the Echani girl would move to neutralize the threat.

"At least the Sith are honest about what they're killing for," Atton muttered, almost speaking to himself now. "The Jedi are pacifists…except in times of war. They're teachers…except when it comes to telling their students the truth. And when they save you…"he let out a bitter laugh. "It's only so you can suffer more." He didn't look at me, and I was certain he knew that I knew we were talking about him now.

"What did the Jedi ever do to you? You can't believe all that—it's not true."

Atton sneered. "Whatever. Just leave me alone. I don't know why I'm wasting time with you anyway." He started to go.

"Wait!" I called. He paused. I gathered my courage. "Do your really think this is a waste of time?" I asked him.

Atton swore, but his shoulders dropped and his muscles relaxed. "No," he murmured finally. "Damned if I know why, but no." He turned, and walked back into the med bay. He sat down on the chair opposite the cot, and I sat on the cot.

I took a deep breath. "You're confused," I guessed. "Because you really don't hate me, whatever you believed about the Jedi."

"I don't."

"I'm not fitting into whatever impression you had of the Jedi."

Atton laughed, shortly and sharply. "You are in some ways. In others not at all. You're a mess."

"So are you, it seems. So. I want to know where all this comes from, Atton. I didn't care, but this is screwing you up, and I can't work with you like this. And I want to keep working with you. You're my pilot, and my friend."

Atton braced his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. "Don't get too attached to me, Darden," he warned me. "I don't like it."

"So you left the war."

"I'm a deserter," he explained, without looking up. "It's what I do."

"It's happened more than once, then. Not just the Jedi Civil War?"

"I served in both wars," he told me. "Against the Mandalorians, before and after Revan, and again…when Revan declared war on the Jedi."

"You were Sith."

Atton looked up then. "That's just a name," he argued. "It's what we did that was important. But it was more than that—you were there, you know how easy it was to hate the Jedi who sat back in the Republic 'evaluating' the threat…and watched us die against the Mandalorians."

It's an ongoing struggle not to hate them, honestly. Sometimes I fail. As Atton spoke, Atris in particular came to mind, condemning those of us that fulfilled our duty to the Republic while worlds burned. I said nothing.

Atton spread his hands helplessly. "You can't believe in the Republic anymore after the Mandalorian Wars. After Revan, nothing was the same. Right after that final battle, I was right there with the rest of the defectors, because it was the right thing to do."

I disagreed. "You betrayed the Republic, doing that."

"No, I didn't," Atton said firmly. "We needed the Jedi during the Mandalorian Wars, more than anything. The Mandalorians were slaughtering us by the millions…the millions. You were at Serroco, when they turned the Stereb cities into glass craters. At Duro, when basilisk war droids rained like meteors onto the orbiting cities. And when the Mandalorian Wars set fire to the Xoxin plains on Eres III—the fires that still burn. Without the Jedi that turned on the Council—without you, the Republic would have lost the war, and we would all be Mandalorian slaves or corpses."

I hadn't realized the depth of Atton Rand's hate before that night. I also hadn't realized how he could speak. The man beneath the mask fascinated me, but he didn't make sense, either. "So you immediately turned around and became a Sith to wage war on the Republic you'd just saved?" I challenged him.

Atton was impatient. "If that's what you wanna call knowing when to fight and when to kill, then yes, but you can't really break down people into Sith and Jedi and expect everything to make sense. We were loyal to Revan. That was enough. She saved us."

When Atton phrased it like that, things began to make sense, Aithne. For an ordinary soldier, watching his friends die because the Jedi wouldn't come, to swear loyalty to the Jedi that did to fight the Jedi that didn't was a comprehensible choice, even logical, in its way. And I'd known you. You have an incredible power to inspire others. Loyalty to you made sense to me. After all, I chose it once.

"So you became a Sith," I prompted.

Atton continued. "After Malachor, after the Mandalorian Wars, that's when the Sith teachings started spreading through the ranks. We knew where our loyalties lay—to the Jedi that had come to help us, not the ones who sat back on Dantooine and Coruscant, watching us die. So when those same Jedi who watched us die decided to start fighting us during the Jedi Civil War, we fought back. I fought back."

"You were good at it, weren't you? Fighting Jedi?"

Atton held my gaze and answered bluntly. "I didn't fight Jedi. I killed them. A lot of them. People say killing Jedi is hard. It's not, you just have to be smart about it. No blasters, no getting close to them, no attacking them directly when you can gun down their allies instead. There's ways of gassing them, drugging them, making them lose control, torturing them. Yeah, I was good at it."

He didn't look away, and I sensed his self-hatred, his guilt. "What's worse," he added, "Killing them wasn't the best thing. Making them fall…making them see our side of it. That was the best."

I'd suspected assassination, but this was a whole new level. I swallowed. "And it was easy for you?" I forced out.

"I taught myself…techniques," Atton explained. "It's hard for Jedi to sense what you're really thinking if you throw up walls of strong emotions and feelings. Lust, impatience, cowardice…most Jedi awareness doesn't cruise beyond the surface feelings, to see what's deeper. And I was good at that, throwing up walls, and my superiors knew it. Sometimes the Jedi on our side wouldn't even realize I was there."

Now it made sense. "The pazaak. And…and the other stuff? Your force emotions? Shield your thoughts, put the Jedi off balance?"

For the first time since he'd started talking, I was afraid. If what Atton said was true, I didn't know how I could trust a single thing he said, did, or seemed to feel. His fear might be an illusion, his fantasies as much of a shield as the pazaak, but an incredibly cruel one. He said he'd used it to put Jedi off balance. If so, the techniques had certainly worked on me. If he had been trying, then I might have reason to fear him.

Atton was too absorbed in his own story to notice the change in my reception. "Yeah," he said. "I had a talent for it. More like instinct. I wasn't the only one. I know you left at the end of the Mandalorian Wars, so you don't know much about what went on behind the scenes in the Jedi Civil War. But Revan understood one thing: the real battle was going to be fought between the Jedi on both sides. That was the only battle that mattered."

"You fought that war. Against Jedi, not armies."

"If Revan couldn't convert the Jedi, she was going to kill them. She had to have the most, the strongest Jedi. So she trained these units—elite units—into assassination squads. Their duty was to go out and capture or kill enemy Jedi. I was in one, yeah."

I couldn't quite keep the bitterness from my voice. "That's the Echani techniques, then. But you were supposed to capture first?"

Atton snorted. "Revan had plans for all Jedi. I think it was important that the Jedi see her side of things, the Sith teachings. She wanted to break them, and then have them join her."

My head was spinning. It made sense, but it was just all so _much_. "But what happened? You left. That's why you're so afraid of the Sith."

"I left," Atton confirmed. "One day I decided not to do it anymore. I ended up on Nar Shaddaa, became someone else."

"Atton Rand."

There was a moment of silence before he said, "My name was Jaq."

I didn't know what to do with what he'd told me, what he expected me to do with it. "I would have let you walk away," I told him. "If you really didn't want to talk about it. Why are you telling me that you helped kill the Jedi?"

Atton raised an eyebrow at me and laughed harshly. "You helped, too, sweetheart. Different circumstances, sure, but you have a bigger body count than I ever did. I've only been with you what? A little over a month? But that's long enough to know that as soon as someone signs on with you, they haven't got long to live. You got history, and anyone who travels with you doesn't. So maybe I want someone to know who I was in case a story needs to be set straight. Maybe you understand."

I wanted to fiddle with something—upgrade a blaster, build a sight. Except my spare parts were in the dormitory. Even if I had them, Atton knew it was a nervous habit by then, and I didn't want him to know I was nervous. I couldn't decide where to look. "I knew you had a story," I admitted. "I knew it was bad. I had guessed that you'd probably been special ops at some point, maybe even an assassin. But I'd never thought that you'd actually killed _Jedi._ But you're sorry now, aren't you? This is your Malachor. Why did you leave, in the end?"

Atton hesitated, then he replied, "There was a woman. A Jedi. She…she gave her life for mine."

"How? Were you assigned to kill her?"

"It wasn't a mission," Atton told me. "She sought me out. She said she had come to save me. She was lying, of course—"his voice went acidic again for a moment, then he shook his head, "Or I think she was. It doesn't matter. She told enough truth to get my attention."

"What did she tell you?"

"She said that Revan was doing something terrible to Jedi within the Unknown Regions. That when we captured Jedi, they were sent to a place designed to…break them. And that anyone in her service who showed any ability with the Force was sent there, too, to turn them, to break them into Dark Jedi…or assassins trained to kill Jedi."

He sat up straight then. "She said that would happen to me. That I had the Force inside me, that's why I was so good at killing Jedi. And that when the Sith learned of it, there would be no escape, no turning back. I would become an instrument of the Dark Side, forever. I had heard talk in the ranks," he admitted. "Troops vanishing. I knew what she meant. But I didn't believe her—or want to believe her."

His eyes darkened, and I was able to fill in the blanks. "You got angry. Did you kill her?"

"I did what I did with all Jedi. I hurt her. I hurt her a lot. And then, right when I thought she couldn't take anymore—she showed me the Force. In my head. And I felt everything she felt, and I heard just an echo of what the Force was. And how what I was doing…"he broke off, overcome for a moment. "I think I loved her. But it wasn't that kind of love. It was the kind of love where you're willing to give up everything for someone you don't even know."

"Sacrifice. Altruism. It's what it means to be a Jedi." I looked away. "Or what it should mean, anyway."

"I killed her for crawling in my head, Darden, for showing me that," Atton stressed. "But before she opened my mind, my only thought was that I would love to kill her. And at the end, I killed her because I loved her."

"To save her from the Dark Side? Keep her from Revan? Because you'd already hurt her enough that she couldn't get away."

Atton sighed, nodded. "In the end, she sacrificed herself to keep my secret, to prevent the Sith from knowing about that touch of the Force inside me," he finished. "She wasted her life to save me. Me. I've killed Jedi, Darden. But I was never there to feel it, to be on the receiving end. And after that—I couldn't stop _feeling_ things." He spread his hands. "Before? Guilt, lust, impatience, it had been orchestrated to get close. After her it all just kept tumbling out, and I couldn't keep doing what I was doing."

The fear that had constricted my chest since he had told me of the purpose of his walls loosened. Atton knew how to use his emotions as a shield, and probably had been, at times. But they weren't fabricated, because he'd been broken, like I'd been broken.

"So I left," Atton told me. "I fled with the displaced war veterans to Nar Shaddaa and I lost myself here, until the war came to an end. I didn't want to deal with Jedi anymore, or Dark Jedi, or the Force. I just wanted to be left alone. I took up smuggling. Got caught at it on Peragus. The crew left me, and then I met you. And I thought, maybe…maybe she had saved me so that I could help you. And if I can't, then I have to try."

Every last bit of Atton's anger and venom had bled out of him. He sat before me empty of what he had believed as a Sith, empty as a man, desperate. Every bit as broken as I had ever been, and drowning in self-hatred. I couldn't blame you, Atton. I couldn't condemn him, Aithne. All I could feel was compassion. Atton had once allowed his hatred to lead him down a path of blind obedience, deep, deep into the Dark. But grace had been extended to him, and he had taken the hard path. And I could only love and admire him for that. I _can_ only love and admire you for that, Atton. And that's why I slipped off the cot and knelt before him that night, peering up into his face. "You know something about exile, don't you, Atton Rand?" I knew I should call you 'Atton,' just as I knew I should call _you_ 'Aithne' tonight.

"I didn't want to tell you," Atton confessed. "But I had to. Because if something happens, I can't let you think—"he stopped, rephrased. "I'm here for her. Because of what she did for me. Not because I expect anything. You had to know that."

"So now I know. Mr. Pazaak put his cards on the table. Atton, it wasn't cowardice to leave like you did, okay? It was bravery. I'm glad you're here. Got that? I'm glad I know you. And I'm glad you told me everything."

Atton took this in. "She showed me the Force, Darden," he said finally. "I heard it, I felt it. At the time, there was too much pain to confront it—because if I did, it meant I would be changed into something else. Now I have changed. I am changing, traveling with you. And I'm not afraid anymore. I think if I learn how to use the Force I can help protect you."

I wasn't sure about that, and neither was he. "Or at least buy you some time when disaster comes screaming in," he amended. "I want to learn to use the Force, like Bao-Dur. I want to learn to use the Force to help you. You're different, Darden. You make me think the Jedi can be different."

His request caught me by surprise, but I sensed the storm was over, and that Atton had found his direction at last. "I'll train you. Gladly," I said.

Atton looked down at me awkwardly. "What must I do? Is there some…some ritual…or…?"

Yeah, it was pretty ridiculous. I laughed, too. "Shut up and stop being an idiot. You don't sound like a Jedi when you speak that way, you just sound like a pompous moron. Here. Sit down, across from me."

Atton slid off his chair to do so.

"Close your eyes, and open your mind."

I reached across the space to him with my mind and my hands. I took his hands, and felt his consciousness tentatively touch mine. This was unnatural to him. I closed my own eyes.

"You've put up walls for so long. Feel the Force around you now instead. Feel the currents of life. Listen to the echoes of your thoughts. Then listen deeper, to your heart—your very own—separated from the war."

Atton retreated back into his mind, and then he opened up to the night. The Force started to swirl around him. I hadn't realized how fuzzy, how flat he'd felt before that moment, when I suddenly sensed his presence with perfect clarity for the first time. I felt his determination and his fear, his care for me and the courage he was demonstrating in this. "The war is over and done with," I murmured. "You can let go of your anger, let go of your hate—who is there to hate anymore? Now, Atton. Think about what you felt when you decided you needed to help me, to protect me."

The Force moved still more swiftly around him. Atton's fear faded, and the Force flared around him. He gasped.

"You feel it?"

"Yeah."

I squeezed his hands and continued to talk to him, slowly and quietly, about the Force. We meditated together, explored the Force, all that night and into the morning.

* * *

_ Darden paused. Atton was staring at her, bemused. He shook his head. "So your only problem with the whole sordid story was when you thought I might be—"_

_ "—a threat," Darden cut him off, pointedly ignoring Atton's small smile. "Your walls _had_ put me off balance."_

_ "Right. _That_ was it," Atton said. "She censored it, too," he told Aithne. "Didn't mention that I cried towards the end—thanks for preserving my manly pride, and all, but that's dramatic stuff."_

_ "It had to be hard enough hearing that," Darden argued. "I didn't want to make it worse."_

_ "I still can't believe you just let me off the hook like that," Atton said softly. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd told me to get lost, or worse."_

_ "How could I?" Darden asked. "You yourself pointed out I've perpetrated horrors far worse, and justified them, when you never tried to. Which is the worse murderer? The one that murders and calls it murder, or the one that whitewashes it and calls it war? Anyway, we'd both paid our debts of remorse. There was no point in hating."_

_ "How're you holding up?" Atton asked Aithne, then. _

_ Aithne was looking at Atton, but she wasn't seeing him. Her eyes were distant. "I guess…" she managed, "I guess if I'd already had a sanity break large enough to think that I'd rule the galaxy better than anyone else, make less of a mess, I'd take measures to clean up the mess by the most efficient meas possible. If you have a dull sword but need a sharp one, you sharpen it, increase efficacy. Dark Jedi are deadlier than special ops and get the job of killing Jedi done faster, but…"she trailed off. Swallowed._

_ Darden reached for the other woman. Aithne shook her off._

_ "It's not like I didn't know," she said, speaking to Atton. "I did research, after the war. I had friends of mine—Mission, and the people teaching her at that point—I had them look into it and report back. I knew I'd had special op assassins—Jedi killers, especially trained for that purpose. And like you said, there were the re-education establishments, to turn captured Jedi or train Force Sensitives. But I've never met—I looked—but I've never met anyone that came out the other side of that before."_

_ Atton frowned. "There weren't many of us," he said. "And it's not like _I've _been looking, but now that you mention it, I haven't met anyone else since the war, either."_

_ Aithne nodded. "After my capture—the remaining Jedi assassins, the trained ones like you—Malak thought they were too much of a threat. Your run-of-the-mill Dark Jedi can use the Force, but they don't know how to work over a Force wielder like you described. They're just as vulnerable to Jedi-killing techniques as Order Jedi. Some of the division escaped the general purge—at least, that's what I hear—but they're so _good_ at hiding, _especially_ from Force Sensitives. So elusive. You're the first covert operative I had that I've ever met, and it's just—it makes it so _real_."_

_ "It's over," Atton said. "From what I've heard, you went through hell to fix things after the Jedi reset your brain—fixed that sanity break right up, whatever they intended. You had a choice to go back to the way things were, but you didn't, and that means you changed, too. You, me, and Darden, we can sit here blaming ourselves for our unforgivable crimes until all the stars go nova, but it won't fix anything. If you ask me, you're lucky you don't remember."_

_ "How well did you know me?" Aithne asked._

_ Atton shrugged. "Not as well as Darden did. Not at all, really. I did meet you. You trained my squad personally for about three weeks, and once, you called me in to give a random report. You did that, every now and then. Said it kept us sharp. You were scary as hell," Atton recollected. "Half-crazy. But inspiring, too. You made us believe in you."_

_ "I'm sorry," Aithne said._

_ "I know," Atton said. "Hey, for all I know you might've done a decent job of running the galaxy, but it's a good thing you decided to stop trying."_

_ "The galaxy's an awful lot of trouble to run, or even try to run," Aithne said. "That's one of the only things I do remember. I was exhausted all the time." _

_ "Ambition does that," Darden remarked. _

_ "Anyway," Aithne said, making up her mind at last and extending her hand. "Nice to meet you, Atton Rand. I don't think I'll kill you, after all."_

_ Atton quirked an eyebrow, deciding himself to take the woman they'd been looking for all this time as she came, and not how he or anyone else had expected her to be. "Thanks for that…Aithne." He shook her hand. She smiled brightly._

_ "Well. Speaking of ambition. Taking down Goto? How'd that work out for you two?"_

_ Darden grimaced. "That didn't work out the way I planned. I'm going to need some help with this bit, and even with Atton's help, I'm not sure we'll get it entirely right. It was like this…_

* * *

**Coming 6/19: Atton helps Darden explain to Aithne how when they finally got the attention of Goto and the Exchange, the involvement of an unaffiliated bounty hunter threw all their plans out of whack and got Darden captured. Aithne perversely enjoys the tale of the bounty hunter's spanner in the works and Darden's damsel-in-distressing. **

**And 6/23: Atton details his daring heroics rescuing Darden from Goto's villainous clutches, and Darden continues to insist it was all someone else's fault she fell into distress in the first place. Afterward, Darden tells Aithne of her meeting with Zez-Kai Ell and how she first got confirmation Kreia had lied to her, and of the joining of two other crew members. **


End file.
